Blood of a Pirate
by Eledhwen
Summary: 10 year old Billy Turner has a rosy future ahead of him as apprentice to his father, the renowned swordsmith Will Turner. But then one night a visitor knocks on the door, and all is thrown into disarray. Chapter 12 and last, 20 November.
1. Chapter 1

_**Disclaimer:** recognisable characters, places and so on belong to the mighty Mouse._

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**Blood of a Pirate**

**Chapter 1**

"Take the steel out of the fire," said Will Turner, glancing over at the boy intently watching him. He placed the glowing metal on his anvil, and began to hammer it. "Beat it while it's hot," he continued, suiting actions to words. "Keep turning it over. When it gets too cool - as it turns dull orange, see? - put it back in the fire."

"I see."

Will smiled. "Good. Then you keep going, until you have your rough blade." He turned, and found a sword ready for completion. "Sharpen and polish it, set the blade into the hilt, and your sword is done."

"So the fire, then hammer," the lad said. "When can I be 'prenticed, Papa?"

"Not for a year or two," Will returned, taking off his apron and hanging it up. "First, you must finish your schooling. A blacksmith also has to manage his business, and know how much he is spending and how much he is earning. And it is heavy work, this. Do you think you will like it?"

"It looks better than arithmetic," his son said.

Rolling down his shirt sleeves, Will laughed. "It is better than arithmetic. Now, Billy, wash your hands. We had better be getting home, or supper will be cold and your mother will be angry."

They washed hands in a pail of water, and strolled home through the deepening twilight.

In the small, comfortable house the Turners called home, Elizabeth Turner was laying the table for supper with the help of her maid, housekeeper, cook and confidante Estrella. Three places were set, and Elizabeth put a small vase of colourful flowers in the centre of the table before standing back and surveying her little empire with satisfaction. All was ready. She took off her apron, patted her hair to ensure it looked its best, and hurried to the kitchen to see whether supper was imminent.

The door of the house opened to admit William Turner, father and son. Billy rushed to find his mother, full of the excitement of the evening; Will followed at a slightly more sedate pace to bestow a kiss on her waiting lips and to assure her that Billy had indeed been well-behaved and attentive.

Estrella came through into the dining room bearing a tray of food, and the Turners sat down to eat.

They were well into the meal, Billy telling a story about a boy at his school, when the knock on the door came.

"Were you expecting visitors?" asked Elizabeth, laying down her fork. "Hush for a moment, Billy."

"No." Will wiped his mouth and stood up. "I hope nothing is amiss." He left the room to answer the door. Elizabeth and Billy heard him unlock it and pull it open; there was a pause, before Will's voice came through to the dining room. "What are you doing here?"

"Billy, run upstairs," Elizabeth told her son.

He looked rebellious, but she raised her eyebrows at him meaningfully and he left the table and disappeared. Elizabeth rose, pulling at the cuffs of her dress, and waited for Will and the visitor to enter the room.

"Well, you had best come in," said Will from the hallway. Shortly afterwards the door closed. Her husband returned to the room, followed by a figure in sea-boots and a battered tricorn hat.

"Hello, Jack," said Elizabeth. "You'd better close the door."

Billy Turner was not his mother's son for nothing. He had obeyed her order to run upstairs to a point - he ran halfway and paused, just out of sight around the corner. Through the banisters he watched his father return to the dining room, accompanied by a man who seemed to clink as he walked, such was the weight of baubles in his hair and on his person. Billy waited until the door had closed behind the visitor, and then crept silently downstairs again on stockinged feet. He made his way to the door, skilfully avoiding the loose floorboard, and settled down with his eye to the knothole near the floor.

Inside the room, his mother had taken her seat again but his father was pacing the room. The visitor was standing by the window, offering Billy an excellent opportunity to examine him better.

Unlike most of his parents' acquaintances, this man did not seem to be what his grandfather would call "respectable". In between his salt-stained boots and hat he wore a full-skirted coat that was quite out of fashion, a faded waistcoat and a shirt that was stained and filthy. His breeches were torn, and held up by a sash that might once have been striped. Billy gaped in excited amazement at the sword and pistols the visitor carried.

"It's not safe, Jack!" his father was saying. "Not for you, and not for us."

"Lovely welcome, William," the stranger responded. "Been away a couple o' years …"

"Seven," put in Elizabeth. "Seven years, Jack. You can't disappear for that length of time and then just walk in and demand help."

"When have I ever done so before?" asked the man called Jack.

Billy's father stopped his pacing and faced his visitor. "Several times. You know that. And now you return, out of the blue, and ask for our help again?"

Jack shrugged. "Had no choice, mate."

"You always have a choice, Jack."

"Not this time, Will. Not this time." Jack held up his hand. "One, we got badly damaged in that storm t'other night. Lost the fore t'gallant - wind tore it clean off before we could take the sail in - and the mizzen mast was snapped in two. Lucky for us we were close by. We limped in and anchored nearby. Couldn't have made it elsewhere."

Billy saw his mother look down at her hands.

"Point two," Jack continued, "in said storm, several of me crew were hurt. Gibbs got his noggin bashed in. Marty broke his arm. And point three is that your bloody friend Norrington …"

Behind the door, Billy stifled a gasp at the language.

"Norrington's got his eye out for me. Soon as the _Pearl_ tries to make her getaway, we'll have some speedy little brig after us."

"Can't you outrun it?" asked Elizabeth.

"Not with half me crew injured, I can't."

An awkward silence fell. The visitor folded his arms and bestowed a beseeching glance on both the Turners.

"C'mon, Will. Help an old friend, won't you?"

Elizabeth and Will exchanged glances. Outside the door, Billy adjusted his position, carefully and silently, trying to bring a leg that had gone dead back to life.

"I don't know, Jack," his mother began. "If it were just the two of us, perhaps, but there's Billy and Estrella to think of. They depend on us."

"Little Billy!" said Jack. "How is the lad?"

Billy, behind the door, was surprised. He had not realised that this flamboyant visitor might know him, and he resumed his listening with extra effort.

"Just beginning to visit me in the forge," Will said proudly.

"Good for him. Pickin' up a trade. Excellent form, young Will. Now, what of it? Can you help me?"

"Elizabeth …" Will said, hesitating.

Making up her mind, Elizabeth stood up. "You may stay the night, Jack. It's too late for you to be heading out again now. We'll decide in the morning whether we can help further."

The visitor put his palms together and made an odd little bow, at which Elizabeth shook her head.

"I'll go and find Estrella and ask her to make up a bed."

Billy jumped up and rushed upstairs to his room, where he grabbed a wooden soldier and began to act as if he had been playing quietly all the time. He heard his mother calling for Estrella and giving her instructions, before there was a quiet tap on his door.

"Billy?"

"Yes, mama?" He looked up from his soldier.

"We have a visitor. I think you should come downstairs and meet him, before you go to bed."

Trying to contain his excitement, Billy nodded and followed Elizabeth down to the dining room, where they found Will and the visitor examining the latest Turner rapier. Both men looked up as Elizabeth and Billy entered, the visitor lowering the sword from the defensive stance he had been holding it in.

"Billy," said his mother, "this is an … an old friend. Jack Sparrow. Jack, this is Billy."

"A mite bigger than last I saw him," said Jack Sparrow. He walked forward and held out a hand that was half-covered in some sort of leather patch. "Captain Jack Sparrow, at your service, Master Turner."

"William Turner," said Billy, taking the hand and shaking it. "Captain of what, sir?"

Will stepped up to his son. "Billy, all you need to know is that Mr Sparrow is a … is a sailor. And maybe you ought not to mention that he's visiting us. To people like your grandfather, or Commodore Norrington."

"Or anyone else," put in Elizabeth.

"Captain," said Jack Sparrow. "It's Captain Jack Sparrow, Will, you know that by now. And don't mollycoddle the lad. He's got a head on his shoulders, any landlubber can see that; not to mention Bootstrap's blood in his veins. You're teachin' him how to make a sword but you can't tell him the truth about a man?"

Looking from his mother to his father to Jack Sparrow, Billy wondered what was going on.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

Elizabeth opened her mouth to speak, but the visitor got in there first.

"I'm captain of the fair ship the _Black Pearl_," Jack Sparrow said. "The loveliest vessel in the Caribbees." He paused for effect. "Like your grandfather, young Turner, I'm a pirate."

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TBC


	2. Chapter 2

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Author's note:** thanks for the enthusiastic encouragement; much appreciated!

**Chapter 2**

Billy gaped. Before him, Jack Sparrow, self-avowed pirate, stood grinning. Elizabeth and Will were exchanging exasperated, annoyed glances. 

"My grandfather was a pirate?" Billy said, eventually. He had managed to accept quickly that Jack Sparrow was a buccaneer - after all, he looked the part, what with his coat and weapons, hat and decorations. But Billy could not work out how his grandfather could have been a pirate. "How does a pirate get to be governor of Jamaica?" 

The three adults looked at each other, and burst out laughing. 

"Oh, sweetheart!" said Elizabeth, coming to lay a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Not your grandfather here. He's my papa, you know that. He has never been a pirate." Her lips twitched. "Can you see him dressed like Captain Sparrow?" 

Billy examined the visitor, and shook his head. "No." 

"Jack's talking about my father," Will said, quietly. "You never knew him. He … he died, before you were born, Billy." 

"Good man," put in Jack Sparrow. 

"Your father was a pirate, Papa?" Billy confirmed, looking at Will. 

Will nodded. "Yes. Yes, he was." 

Eyes wide, Billy said, "Gosh." He turned to his mother. "Like in those stories you used to tell me at bedtime?" 

Now Elizabeth was the subject of an accusing glare, from her husband. She coloured, and shrugged. "It was a long time ago, Will, when Billy was little. I didn't think he would remember." 

"Dare say he doesn't remember meeting ol' Jack before," said Jack Sparrow, who had been observing proceedings with a slight smile. "You were but a mite of a thing, lad. Pulled my hair somethin' rotten." 

Billy turned his attention back to the pirate in the room. "How old was I? Did I see your ship? Where is it now?" 

"_She_," said Jack, emphasising the word with a raised finger, "is anchored close by. I don't recall you did see her. You were … I dunno, three?" 

"Can I see her this time?" asked Billy. The thought of a real live pirate ship, with more real live pirates on it, was thrilling. 

"Of course," said Jack Sparrow. 

"Maybe," said Elizabeth, cautiously. 

"Certainly not!" said Will. 

"Why not?" Billy said. 

"Enough questions," his mother cut in, turning her son and pushing him towards the door. "Now, remember what we said. That Jack is here is a big secret. You must not tell anyone." 

"Especially bloo … the commodore," interrupted Jack, quickly. "That's _very_ important, lad." 

Billy nodded. He could see that the stern commodore, who would occasionally let Billy and his friends visit the fort and touch the marines' bayonets, would not like the fact that his parents were friends with a pirate captain. 

"So off to bed now, darling," said Elizabeth. "Jack will still be here in the morning." 

"Will I?" Jack asked. 

"If you don't run away," Will said. "Good night, Billy." 

"Night, Papa. G'night, Mama. Night, Captain Sparrow." 

In his small room, Billy undressed slowly and tried to listen to the adults talking downstairs. But they were speaking too softly, and he gave up and climbed into bed. Estrella arrived to put his clothes away and tuck him up and blow out his candle. 

"Did Mama tell you about the visitor?" Billy asked, sleepily. 

Estrella paused by the door. "That she did, Master Billy. It's been a while since Capt'in Sparrow came to visit. Dare say you don't remember him." 

"No." He yawned. "How long will he stay?" 

"Oh, not long, I shouldn't imagine," said Estrella. "Now, sleep well, Master Billy." 

He smiled at her, and snuggled down underneath the quilt that had once been his mother's. 

That night Billy dreamed of pirates. He dreamed of the flamboyant Jack Sparrow on board a ship, waving a giant black and white flag. He dreamed of a man who looked a bit like his father, close to Jack Sparrow, in a big hat with a feather. Then he dreamed his mother was there too, dragging the man who looked like his father - and who suddenly _was_ his father - away from Jack Sparrow. 

He woke with a start, the covers kicked away, and lay still in the dark, staring up at the ceiling. The house was quiet, and still. Billy blinked a few times, before rearranging his covers and going back to a deep, dreamless sleep. 

In the morning he was awoken by Estrella with a basin of warm water. Getting out of bed he remembered about the pirate in the house, and dressed quickly to hurry downstairs. 

Jack Sparrow was sitting incongruously in the kitchen eating bread and honey, some of which had stuck to his neat little braided beard. Billy slid into a seat opposite him and set to his own breakfast. 

"Mornin', lad," said Jack Sparrow, through a mouthful. 

"Good morning, sir," Billy returned, spreading honey on a slice of Estrella's bread. 

"Polite little thing, ain't you?" the pirate captain commented. Billy concentrated on his breakfast, all too aware of Jack Sparrow's intent scrutiny. A few minutes of silence, interrupted only by the chewing of bread, followed, during which Billy tried to get his courage up to ask a question. "So you've never wanted to go to sea?" asked Sparrow, eventually. 

"No," said Billy. "I'm going to learn how to make swords, like Papa. You know he makes them for all the officers in the fort?" 

"Unfortunately, I do," Sparrow said. "Makes 'em all too well, too. So you really want to be a blacksmith, eh?" 

Billy considered the question. "Ye-es," he replied, eventually. "It's a good trade. And Papa's going to teach me to use a sword too, because he says you can't make them if you can't use them." 

Sparrow nodded. "Wise words. Useful thing to know, how t' use a blade. Your father's one o' the best, you know that?" 

"That's what Commodore Norrington says, too," Billy agreed. 

The pirate raised his eyebrows. 

"He does, does he? How is Norrington these days?" 

"You know the commodore, sir?" Billy had abandoned his bread and honey for the moment. 

Jack Sparrow grinned, showing off a mouthful of golden teeth. 

"Aye, I know him. Or he knows me. Anyway, we know of each other. The bas … well, he tried to hang me once. Got as far as the rope round me neck, your grandpa and your ma lookin' on from the best seats in the house, when along comes your dad with a sword and a _very_ nice hat, and rescues me! Had himself a little scrap with the executioner, we outran plenty of marines, and I escaped over the cliff edge." 

Breakfast now entirely forgotten, Billy sat in wonderment. 

"My father saved you from the commodore? But then what happened? Shouldn't he have been punished?" 

"Commodore Norrington, persuaded by your grandfather, was good enough to let it pass - that one time," said Will, coming into the room. "Jack, have you been telling stories again?" 

Looking innocent, Jack Sparrow shrugged. "Might 'ave been. Anyway, it's family history. The boy should hear it. Should have heard it years ago, if you'd been educatin' him properly." 

"He's had an excellent education," Will said defensively. "He can read and write, add and subtract, and has a good grip on Latin." 

"But can he talk his way out of a sticky situation, or fix a loose shroud, or tell you which way's larboard?" asked Sparrow. "'Course he can't. You've brought the lad up to be a landlubber, Will. Your father'd be disappointed." 

"I doubt that very much," said Will. "I, after all, was originally due to be apprenticed to a bookbinder in Portsmouth. Not a very nautical occupation." 

Sparrow frowned. "I didn't know that. Leastways, I don't recall Bill ever mentioning it." 

"Because he knew you'd have talked him out of the idea, in all likelihood," Will pointed out. He looked across at Billy, who had resumed nibbling at his breakfast. "In any event, that time is past. We need to know what you want us to do. I fail to see how we can either mend the _Black Pearl_ for you or heal your crew. Or stop Norrington from chasing you, should he be minded to do so." He paused. "Billy, take your bread outside." 

"Leave the lad be, Will," said Sparrow. "He'll only listen at the window if you kick him out." 

Billy flushed, and examined the knots in the tabletop to avoid meeting the pirate's gaze. 

"Hmm," Will said. "Well, in any event, there's my dilemma. It's not that I - we - it's not that we're not happy to see you. I just can't see what we can do to help." 

Sparrow nodded, and became suddenly businesslike. "Tools," he said. "The problem's this. Most of me crew come aboard with their own blades; usually rusting old things that've seen too many years and too much salt water. Now I don't know if we've had a run o' bad luck, or what - I don't think we got cursed again, though I may've missed it - but over the last months half of 'em have broken their swords. And they've taken to using what we have on board as weapons when we attack something. Long and the short of it is I don't reckon we've enough tools to finish the job quick enough, not when there's a mast to mend." He shrugged. "And we need new rope." 

"I can't turn out that many blades for you as quickly as you'll need them," Will said. 

"I'll pay." 

"That's not the point," Will returned. Billy could see his father beginning to get exasperated. "I have a business, Jack. I've promised the fort another four rapiers and some spare bayonet blades by the end of the month." 

"You must have some lying around that you've not sold?" said Sparrow. "My men aren't fussy. And as for the tools, I reckon a couple of good axes and some chisels will do us. My carpenter'll be eternally grateful." 

"Doubtless." 

Sparrow stood up, and came very close to Will; Billy, amused, watched his father retreat against the wall. 

"I'll throw in all the broken ones for free," said the pirate. "They just need mending. Then you can resell them, for a profit, and everyone's happy." 

"Except Norrington, when he doesn't get his blades _and_ finds out I've been harbouring the Caribbean's most wanted man!" exclaimed Will. 

Jack Sparrow threw down his hands, and moved away. 

"All right then. Never mind. We'll manage. But how about this: we forget the blades, and the rope, and you and the lovely Lizzy and the lad come and pay a visit to the _Pearl_? Gibbs'd be pleased to see you. Despite his bashed head. And so would the old lady. She doesn't forget a debt, savvy?" 

Will sighed, deeply. Billy waited to see what the answer would be. Finally, his father nodded. 

"We'll come. It'll be a quick visit." 

"Like lightening," Sparrow agreed. "Excellent! Sure Mrs Turner agrees?" 

"Really," said Will, "she's keener than I am." He turned to Billy. "Run and find a coat, Billy. We're going to see Captain Sparrow's ship." 


	3. Chapter 3

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Author's note:** In earlier fics I've written the Pearl_ as a bark (two square-rigged masts, one fore-and-aft) but frankly after seeing the pictures of the replica they've built for the sequels it's unfortunately clear she's going to be a full-rigged ship with three square-rigged masts. So I've turned her into a ship from this fic on._

**Chapter 3**

Getting to Captain Jack Sparrow's ship proved to be somewhat harder than going out usually was. First everyone had to get ready, finding coats and hats and boots; Will had to harness the little pony to the family trap; Elizabeth fussed about small things and she and her husband had a short argument about nothing while Billy and Jack Sparrow stood by, watching. Eventually they were ready. Sparrow was tucked into the bottom of the trap and covered by blankets in the hope that nobody they passed would spot him. 

The trap rattled away from Port Royal, down towards the sea. From under the blankets Jack Sparrow offered the occasional direction. They saw nobody, and when Billy looked out to sea the only vessels he saw were fishing boats. 

After a journey of maybe fifteen minutes, the trap jarred its way down a slope and Jack Sparrow popped his head out from the blankets. 

"Look t'ward the sea," he said to Billy, in a deep, serious tone. Billy did so, seeing nothing but chinks of blue between the leaves of the palm trees and the bushes that lined the path. "Keep looking," said the pirate. 

He did so. The trap came around a corner and suddenly the undergrowth was clear - and there she was, resplendent in the small enclosed bay. 

"The _Black Pearl_," said Sparrow, proudly and affectionately. "Bless 'er." 

Billy watched the ship come closer, and as the trap came to a halt and he jumped down he noticed that the ship was not as perfect as she had looked to begin with. Her paintwork was battered, and the shortest of her three masts appeared to have been broken. Men were at work on deck and in the web of ropes stretching from deck to masthead. 

Jack Sparrow put his fingers to his lips and let out two long piercing whistles. After a moment, the same sound came drifting back from the ship. The Turners watched as a boat was lowered into the water; soon it had pulled up on the shore, its prow crunching against the sand. 

"Cap'n." 

"Mr Hooper." Sparrow touched his hand to his hat in a salute to the pirate in the boat. "As you'll see we've some visitors. Mr William Turner, his fair lady Elizabeth, and young Master William Turner." 

"Pleased t' meet you," said the pirate, gruffly but politely. "Hop in." 

Sparrow did so, and helped Elizabeth into the little boat. She settled down in the bows and tucked her skirts around her, her eyes sparkling. Billy followed, and sat with Will in the stern. The two pirates took the middle thwart and each an oar, and pulled the boat swiftly towards the great ship at anchor. 

Billy looked up at her as they got close, amazed at her bulk. She seemed to tower over them - and that was without accounting for her tall masts. Along her sides he could see gun ports and the snub noses of a row of cannon, each blackened with smoke. He imagined the guns being set off, perhaps in a battle with another ship, and wondered what the noise would be like. 

The pirates shipped their oars as the little boat came alongside the _Black Pearl_. Each seized a painter dangling in the water, tied it quickly to the boat, and then Hooper caught a rope ladder that was cast down by a man on the ship. Sparrow climbed up, scaling the rungs easily and swinging over the side of the vessel. 

Will went next, surprising Billy with his agility. 

"Go on, sweetheart," said Elizabeth, smiling at him. 

He caught the bottom of the ladder and hauled himself on to it, and then climbed up. At the top his father helped him over the high side of the ship, and Billy landed with his feet on the pitch-darkened deck. 

A small group of pirates had gathered to greet their captain and the visitors. Billy's gaze fell first on them, but was a little disappointed to see that most of the men were dressed as any sailor and not in the flamboyant manner of Jack Sparrow. He looked up towards the rigging, his eyes running over the complicated tangle of ropes, and wondered which rope you pulled to hoist which sail. 

Elizabeth was being helped over the rail, her skirts proving a slight hindrance. Eventually she made it, and smoothed them out. Jack Sparrow bowed slightly. 

"Welcome aboard the _Black Pearl_, Mrs Turner," he said. 

"I'm not sure I like hearing those words," she returned, but smiling. "Barbossa said something remarkably similar." 

"Did he? Then I'm just glad you came, 'Lizabeth. Better?" 

"Rather." 

"Well, Master Turner," said Sparrow, "do you like her?" 

"Yes," said Billy, honestly. "It's bigger than I thought it would be." He caught sight of the pirate's face, and hastily amended: "I mean, she's bigger." 

"Good lad. You're learning. Want the grand tour?" 

Billy grinned. "Yes please!" 

Sparrow turned a scowl on his crew. "What're you all starin' at, eh? There's work t'be done!" 

"You could at least introduce the visitors, cap'n?" someone said. 

"Turner," said Sparrow. "William, William, Elizabeth. Right. Now, back to work, or we'll end up having the Navy after us, savvy?" 

The men scattered around the ship. Sparrow shook his head in exasperation. "Reckon I'm too soft," he muttered. "Now then. Let's start below and work up, shall we?" 

He led the way down a set of steep stairs, and down another, and still one more - picking a lantern up on the way - and showed the Turners a vast hold stacked with barrels and boxes. 

"Food. Swag. More o' the former than the latter at the moment." 

Up they went again, back to the middle deck. Here there were two large cages. 

"Remember this?" asked Sparrow. 

"Yes," said Billy's parents. 

Will walked to one of the cages and tried the door, which swung open. He stepped inside and stood there for a second, silently. 

Closing the door there was a squeak and a rattle. Will frowned, and squinted at the ironwork. "This is rather rusty, Jack," he pointed out. 

"Problem with iron and water," Sparrow said. "It does that. S'all right, we don't use them much. And we've found that if you clap someone in a brig they'll not try and get out - even if the door don't quite lock." 

He turned on his heel, and led the way through to a room hung with hammocks in rows. It smelt dank and sweaty, and Elizabeth wrinkled her nose. 

"Ever slept in a hammock, young Billy?" asked Sparrow. 

"No." 

"You ought t' try it. Much more comfy than you'd think." He bestowed a shiny grin on Billy, who returned the smile and found he was very much enjoying himself. 

They left the sleeping-quarters and passed through the mess, equipped with long tables which had cunning edges to prevent plates from going flying in rough weather. Sparrow stuck his head into the galley to find out what the ship's cook was preparing for lunch, and emerged to announce that the men would be dining on fish caught that morning from the stern of the _Black Pearl_. 

Next came the cabins, for the officers among the crew. Sparrow bade the Turners wait in the corridor while he went in to discover how his first mate, Gibbs, was faring after having been hit by a block during the storm. Billy listened to the voices from inside the cabin, while his parents fidgeted. 

After a few moments Sparrow popped his head out of the cabin door. 

"Seems he's well enough to see you. C'mon in." 

Billy followed his parents into the cabin, where a man was lying on the bed with a large bandage wrapped round his head. 

"Miss Elizabeth!" the man said. "Will Turner. And who's this?" 

"I'm Billy," said Billy. 

"Joshamee Gibbs, first mate o' the _Pearl_," the bandaged man introduced himself. "Looks like life's been lookin' after you, young Will." 

"Not so young anymore," Will replied. "Sorry to hear about your head, Mr Gibbs." 

"I'd be up and about now if it weren't for the surgeon Jack took on board last ship we took," said Gibbs, gruffly. "The man's ordered me to stay abed until the day arter tomorrow." 

"We don't want you falling overboard," Jack Sparrow pointed out. "You'll be up when we sail, doubtless. Now stay here and rest, savvy? I need you in one piece." 

"Aye, cap'n," said Gibbs, resigned to his fate. 

They left him and continued on the tour. The next door Sparrow pushed open gave into a large, airy cabin. 

"This is mine," he said. 

"This was Barbossa's," said Elizabeth. 

"Only temporarily," Sparrow corrected her. "Anyway, I chucked away most of his stuff, save for the valuables." 

Billy wandered around the cabin, examining the bits and bobs that Sparrow had collected. The walls were covered in pictures and interesting-looking weapons - Will was also examining those with some curiosity - and piles of books covered the table in the centre of the cabin. A narrow bunk was neatly-made with a rough blanket. Various nautical instruments rested on top of the books on the table as well as on shelves on the walls. 

Taking a curved dagger from its mount, Will tested the weight and balance and glanced over at Sparrow. "This is lovely." 

"Moroccan," said the pirate. "Watch that, lad!" 

Billy quickly put down the gilded pistol he had picked up, fearful of recrimination. But Sparrow merely crossed to him, stowed the gun away in a drawer, and smiled. 

"It ain't loaded. But you've got to watch a pistol, young Turner; they've a mind to go off without you wantin' them too." He patted his own pair of pistols, tucked away in his tattered sash. "Seen enough?" 

"I'm envious of your collection, Jack," Will said as they followed Sparrow up on deck. "I wish I had half the blades you have there." 

"Advantages of travelling," returned Sparrow. "You could've come with me, you know, all those years ago." 

Will looked at Elizabeth. "I know." 

They climbed a set of steps to the highest point of the ship's deck, and Sparrow pointed out the wheel that steered her and the instruments which helped plot the right course. Above their heads men were banging away at the short mast with hammers. 

"We're putting a jury rig on the mizzenmast," explained Sparrow. Billy wondered what a jury rig was, and decided the short mast closest to them must be the mizzenmast. "Means she'll be able to sail, but we'll have less canvas to play with than what we usually do," Sparrow clarified. "Know what sort o' vessel the _Pearl_ is, Billy?" 

"No sir." 

"She's a ship," said Sparrow. "Three square-rigged masts. I've wondered whether to turn her into a bark, now an' then, but she sails well enough as she is." He looked up at the masts, fondly. "Fastest ship in the Caribbean, though she might'n't look it." 

"James said there was a new ship coming out from Portsmouth soon," said Will. 

Sparrow raised his eyebrows. "_James_, is he, now?" 

"Oh, Jack!" Will said. "Sorry. Look, I know you don't like the commodore, but he's a decent enough man really. Anyway, she's supposed to be arriving within the month." 

"What sort o' ship?" asked Sparrow. 

"32 guns," put in Elizabeth. "He said they've built her for pirate-hunting. To sail close to the wind." 

"Of course they have." Sparrow made a quick flicking motion with his wrist, as if putting the problem aside. "Let 'em come." 

Will and Elizabeth exchanged yet another glance, and Billy fidgeted nearby. He hated it when his parents were being tense about something. 

Sparrow clearly shared his views, because he moved suddenly and was off down the steps to the main deck of his ship. "Well, we can't be standing around all day. Will you be off or can you stay for somewhat to eat?" 

Adjusting her hat, Elizabeth gave him a rueful smile. "We'll have to go, Jack. I promised my father I'd visit this afternoon." 

"I have an order to finish," added Will. 

"And the lad?" said Sparrow. 

They all looked at Billy. He wished he dared ask his parents if he could stay, at least for a little while, and explore the ship properly, but he knew his mother's moods and she seemed set on going. 

"How about he stays aboard this afternoon and t'night?" suggested Sparrow. "I'll fetch him home tomorrow morning. We're not going anywhere, not till that t'gallant's back up and the mizzen's ready." 

Billy turned beseeching eyes on his parents. Somehow Sparrow had known exactly what he wanted. 

"Oh, Jack …" began his mother. 

"He really ought to be …" added his father. 

"There's time enough for him to learn how to make a sword, or learn his letters," said Sparrow, winking at Billy. "One night." He paused. "Lad ought to see where his granddad spent so much time." 

Ten minutes later Billy was, to his amazement, standing by the pirate captain at the rail of the _Black Pearl_ as Hooper rowed his parents back ashore. He was not quite sure how Sparrow had persuaded them to allow him to stay on board for the night, but there he was, and there they were. 

Sparrow turned to him with a grin. 

"How'd you like to go aloft, lad?" 


	4. Chapter 4

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Chapter 4**

Billy stood at the bottom of the foremast and looked upwards. It seemed a very long way to the top. 

By his side, Jack Sparrow smiled down at him. The pirate had taken off his hat, jacket, waistcoat and weapons and was dressed simply in shirt and breeches, a scarf keeping his hair back off his face. 

"What you've got t' remember," he said, "is not to let go. Always have three bits o' you attached to the ship, savvy? Two hands and a foot, or two feet and a hand." He demonstrated by waving one foot in the air while pretending to hang on to rigging with his hands, and then put the foot down and waved a hand around. "That's what'll stop you falling. And _please_ don't fall - I don't want your mum and dad after me." 

"I don't want to fall," Billy said, sure of this at least. "So how high are we going?" 

"For starters," said Sparrow, squinting up, "we'll get you to the fighting top. That's the handy little platform up there. Nice and solid, and nice and safe. Once you've been up and down once or twice we'll see about headin' higher." 

Billy nodded. That sounded all right. "So I follow you?" he checked. 

"You follow me." 

Sparrow climbed up on to the side of the ship and swung himself round on to the shrouds, strung like netting to the masts. He gave Billy a last reassuring grin and set off, moving quickly up the ropes. 

Taking a deep breath, and wiping hands that were suddenly sticky on his breeches, Billy followed. He fixed his eyes on the ropes in front of him, trying to look only up at the man above him and not down at the dark, hard deck and deep waters that would greet him if he fell. 

He was concentrating so hard on the climb that he barely noticed he was almost at the fighting top. The platform was reached through a hole next to the mast, and Sparrow was waiting for Billy next to it. The pirate reached through the hole and grasped his arm firmly to help him up. 

"Hang on to that rope," Sparrow instructed, pointing out the rope that went around the edge of the platform. "Now, look at the view!" 

Billy looked, and gaped. He had climbed above the lowest sail on the foremast, and was looking down at the deck - a very long way below. He could see the pirates at work on the mizzenmast, and if he looked upwards there were more men busy at the top of the foremast. If he looked ahead, towards the bow of the _Black Pearl_, the wide open sea lay before him; behind was the green of the island. 

"What d'you reckon?" asked Sparrow, who was standing easily on the platform as if it were solid ground. 

"It's … it's marvellous!" said Billy. He peered down at the sail below, which was neatly furled. "How do you get to that, sir?" 

"You stop a bit below the platform and walk across," Sparrow said, pointing out a rope attached to the shrouds and to the yard-arm. "Then there's another line for y'r feet, and you hang on to the yard." 

"Oh." Billy tried to see, and was not quite sure he did. "Right." 

Sparrow laughed. "You'd get the hang of it if you tried," he said. "Took me a few goes to feel right at home up here, but it wasn't long." 

"How old were you when you first went to sea?" Billy questioned. 

"Me?" Sparrow frowned. "Bit older than you, lad. Twelve? Don't rightly recall." He was on the brink of saying something else, but a call of "Cap'n!" from above their heads stopped him. He turned to Billy. "Now. Hang on there, don't try and go anywhere, don't let go, all right? I'm popping up to find out what the lads want." He paused, one hand on the next set of shrouds heading upwards. "Don't do anything stupid - just enjoy the view?" 

Billy, hanging on to ropes as he did so, sat down carefully and watched as the pirate climbed catlike on up towards the top of the mast. If he leant back and squinted he could watch the men at work up there; could watch Sparrow edge out on to the yard to examine their handicraft. But it made him dizzy, so he sat up again and looked at the island instead. 

Shortly, he was joined again on the fighting top by Sparrow, who wiped his brow with his sleeve and gave a last look up. 

"Should be fixed by night," he said. "Had enough yet? Hungry?" 

"Starving!" said Billy, discovering he was ravenous. 

"Good. There's fish." 

Back down on deck Billy followed Sparrow into his cabin and watched as the pirate splashed his face and neck with water and slipped on several large rings he had taken off in order to climb the rigging. Then they made their way to the mess, where most of the crew had already gathered. The cook and another man were hauling a large pot of something fragrant and fishy on to a table, and there was a cheerful clatter of plates. 

Sparrow slid into a seat, Billy taking the one next to him. He found he was seated opposite a very small man with a bald head and his left arm in a sling, who grinned cheerfully enough and introduced himself as Marty. 

"Billy Turner," said Billy. 

"How's the arm?" asked Sparrow. 

Marty shrugged, accepting a plate of fish stew with his good arm. "Doin' well enough, cap'n. Doc says it'll heal." 

"Only if you promise not to go climbing," put in another voice. Billy looked around at the newcomer who had taken a seat by his side. "Good afternoon, young man." 

"Good afternoon, sir." 

Sparrow waved a spoon in the other man's direction. "Mr Piper, ship's surgeon." 

"Captain Sparrow." The surgeon passed plates down the table. "Your first mate should be well enough to get up soon." 

"So he told me." 

Billy picked up his spoon and tasted the stew. It proved to be excellent, hot and savoury and spicy with plenty of fish, and he dug in with gusto and listened to Sparrow discussing the health of his men with the doctor. Around him there was a deal of chatter and laughter - the crew of the _Black Pearl_ seemed to be a cheerful lot. By his side, Sparrow's hands painted patterns in the air. 

He was chewing a bit of bread when the surgeon turned to him. "So what brings you aboard the _Black Pearl_, young man? Looking for a post as a cabin boy?" 

Shaking his head, Billy swallowed the bread. 

"No, sir. My parents are … well, my parents know Captain Sparrow." 

"I sailed with his granddad," put in Sparrow, leaning over. 

"You're not looking for a new cabin boy, then?" asked Piper. 

"Dunno," Sparrow said. "If one should turn up, maybe." He shot Billy a calculating sort of look. 

"I'm going to be a blacksmith," Billy told the doctor, in case Sparrow should start getting ideas. "Like my father. I'm just visiting, today." 

The doctor took a sip of water. "Hold on to that thought," he said. "A few weeks ago I was happily aboard a very lovely merchant vessel …" 

"She was lovely," Sparrow said, with a glint in his eye. 

"… when we sighted a pirate ship, with black sails, on the horizon. Tried to outrun it, I believe, and I readied my equipment in case of injuries." 

"But you couldn't outrun us," said Sparrow proudly. 

Little Marty leaned across the table, as if confiding a secret. "This is the fastest ship in the Caribbean," he said. 

Sighing, Piper nodded. "As we found to our cost. Captain Sparrow here and his men promptly caught us up, boarded us, and carted off half the ship's goods and myself." 

"Didn't you get a choice?" asked Billy, fascinated. 

"Course he didn't get a choice, lad," Sparrow said. "We needed a surgeon. There he was." 

Billy digested the information as the doctor excused himself and left the table. He was unsure whether or not he should feel sorry for Piper - although he had been taken aboard against his will, the surgeon did not appear to be too upset about his change in fortune. 

"Don't go and get all moral on me like your dad," said Sparrow, breaking into Billy's thoughts. "He will try and be _sensible_." 

"He has a business to run," Billy said defensively, not liking the pirate belittling his father. 

"Aye, and I've a ship to sail and men to feed and look after." Sparrow stood up. "What your dear papa can't get used to, even after all these years, is that the money and the bits 'n bobs he got off _his_ dad came from this." He waved an arm in the air, encompassing the ship. "And what your mother can't understand is that piracy's a mite dirtier than her little pamphlets'll make it out to be, savvy?" 

Billy followed him out of the mess and up on to the deck, where the crew had all returned to work. 

"So why're you friends with them?" he asked. "Actually, how did you meet them? And why did the Commodore try and hang you?" 

Sparrow turned wide, black-lined eyes on him. "You mean t'say they've never told you?" 

"No." He trotted after the captain across the deck. "They never mentioned you." 

Sparrow straightened from pulling something out of a chest on deck, and handed Billy a tin of some smelly paste and an old rag. 

"Well, there's a proper tale to tell you," he said. "But not now. If we're to get away as soon as I'd like there's a deal o' work to be done, and I reckon you could help out, if you're willing. If you could go round the ship and polish the bits o' brass, I'll give you the story after dinner. Most of the men haven't heard it either. We'll have a proper tale-telling, and a ration of rum, and you can find out just how the lovely Miss Elizabeth Swann was saved from drownin' by a gallant pirate captain, and how said pirate captain then helped her young blacksmith suitor save her from a bunch of murderous mutinous traitors." He raised his eyebrows. "All right?" 

Clutching the rag and tin, Billy nodded. "All right." 

"We have an accord!" exclaimed Sparrow with satisfaction, holding his hand out for Billy to shake. "Go on then, lad, get to the polishing. And I want to see me teeth in that brass when you're done." 

He displayed the teeth for Billy, and then turned on his heel and disappeared off to the helm. 

Billy found the first brass plaque, opened the tin, and settled down to a hard afternoon's work. 


	5. Chapter 5

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Chapter 5**

It was dark, and above the sails and rigging of the _Black Pearl_ the stars shone bright. The ship's deck was illuminated by lanterns, which cast as much shadow as they did light. All her crew were on deck, lounging comfortably against the rail and on coils of rope, most of the men cradling tankards of rum. 

Billy was seated against the rail wrapped in a blanket someone had found for him. He had drawn his knees up to his chin and was listening, entranced, to Captain Jack Sparrow tell the tale of how he had met Will and Elizabeth Turner, one summer twelve years earlier. He found some parts of the story were familiar to him - it seemed his mother had told him extracts, painting them as if they had happened to somebody else. But he had never been told the whole tale before. 

The pirates were also listening, intent on the yarn Sparrow was expertly spinning. Now and then one of them called out a comment - it seemed a few of them, including little Marty, had been involved in the adventure themselves. 

Sparrow himself was perched on top of a barrel so he was elevated above his men, the lantern-light throwing an orange glow on his face. His eyes seemed to shine as he spoke. 

"So there we were, out on that island," Sparrow said, halfway through his story. "The _Black Pearl_," he gestured grandly at the ship, "had gone, looking mightily upset to see me off when she'd just got me back, with not only me crew but also young Turner aboard. Me and the lovely 'Lizabeth were stranded, without hope of rescue." 

"Better the island than the brig!" Marty called. 

"That's as maybe," Sparrow said. "Now, I'll confess that being stuck on an island in the comp'ny of Miss Swann was a sight better than being stuck on the self-same island in the comp'ny of just meself. But," he held up a finger to accentuate the point, "I should note we both behaved with perfect propriety." 

There was a chorus of catcalls and laughter from the men. 

"Honest pirate," said Sparrow. He looked over at Billy. "And I ain't just sayin' that 'cos the lad's here. The worst that happened was we both got drunk, on the rum left by the rumrunners. Leastways, I got drunk, and thought she was; turned out the lass got the better of ol' Jack. I woke up to find she was …" he paused, and swept his gaze over his audience, "she was burning the rum." 

"Good girl," said Mr Piper, from his spot on the deck close to Billy. 

"Ah, doctor, you'll have us all sober yet!" exclaimed Sparrow. "Aye, she burnt all the rum. And the shade. That was truly the closest I came to shooting meself. But I never got the chance, as Elizabeth's little beacon got the attention of the Navy." 

He took a swig from his own tankard of rum. "They'd brought the _Dauntless_. Lovely ship, bit slow. Not that they were planning on using her for anything other than a gentle cruise back t'wards Port Royal, not until Miss Swann spoke up." Sparrow shook his head in admiration. "Clever girl, that. Although it was as clear as day to any fool who'd look that she was as much taken with Will Turner as he was with her, she agreed to marry that stick Norrington if he'd sail after Turner and rescue him." 

"My mother was going to marry the commodore?" Billy asked, amazed. 

"That he was, lad," confirmed Sparrow. "I reckon Norrington did like her, and 'tis true he'd have been a better match for her than a pirate's whelp. So I gave up me bearings and off we went to Muerte. 

"The _Pearl_ was a bit ahead of us, but she'd been hurt in the battle with the _Interceptor_ and wasn't making her best time. She was at anchor when we arrived. I suggested me plan to Norrington, we all hopped into little boats and went off to float near the cave." 

"What were the plan, cap'n?" someone called. 

"'T'were a good one," returned Sparrow, leaning forwards. "See, I was to row into the cave and alert Barbossa of the Navy's presence, which'd get him and his men out there under the _Dauntless_'s guns. Then I was going to use the lad's blood, end the curse, row back to the _Pearl_ and away, savvy?" 

The pirates exchanged glances. "And what did 'appen?" asked Hooper. 

"Ah," said Sparrow. "Well, it started out all right. I got me boat, paddled into the cave, interrupted them just as they were about to cut poor Will's throat," he demonstrated with a finger across his own neck. Billy swallowed. "Persuaded Barbossa he ought t' send his men out." 

Sparrow paused. "I'd reckoned without the curse, though. Barbossa sent 'em out walking. They walked right out to the _Dauntless_ on the sea-bed!" 

"Under the sea?" said Billy. 

"Didn't need to breathe," explained Sparrow. "That left me and young Turner in a bit of a conundrum, as it were. But I'm not Captain Jack Sparrow for nothing. While I'd been chatting with Barbossa I'd pinched a coin, and though he tried his damnednest he couldn't kill me." Sparrow leapt off his barrel and drew his sword, and punctuated the next sentences with parries and thrusts of the blade. "We danced around that cavern trading blows for a while - me winning, o' course, though it wasn't worth anything - until I thought the opportune moment had arrived." He mimed slicing his palm with the sword and throwing an imaginary coin across the deck in Billy's direction. "Turner had his wits about him, added his own coin, and poof! end of curse. Just as I used that single shot." 

Sparrow sheathed his sword and sat back down on the barrel. 

"Barbossa was dead. Aboard the _Dauntless_, they clapped the survivors in the brig, threw the others over the side. 

"Now, what I'd not seen was that Will'd been joined by his lass at some point during the fight, and she'd helped him out a bit. Your mother ever tell you she could fight?" he asked Billy. 

"Papa's taught her to use a sword," Billy said. 

"Got some spirit in her," Sparrow said. "She'd also nipped across to the _Pearl_ and had set me crew free from the brig. So when me and Will and 'Lizabeth came out of the cave, there she was sailing away." 

"Seemed the best thing to do, at the time," put in Marty. 

"It wasn't a bad idea," agreed Sparrow. "Apart from the fact it left me at the mercy of bloody Norrington and his merry men in red. Sure enough, a few days later, there I was in Port Royal awaiting my fate on the gallows, where, had it not been for dear William in his hat, I'd've swung. As it was I didn't swing, and the old lady plus crew were waiting off the point." He spread his hands. "And that, gentlemen and Master Turner, is the story of how Captain Jack Sparrow avenged 'imself on his mutinous crew, met the son of his old shipmate and the governor's daughter, and got his ship back." 

There was a round of applause. Piper held up his hand. 

"And which was most important, Captain Sparrow?" 

"Eh?" said Sparrow, breaking off a swig of rum. 

"Of the vengeance, the regaining of the ship and the meeting, which was most important?" 

Sparrow's lips twitched, and he met the doctor's gaze before swinging off the barrel. "Ah, now that'd be telling, wouldn't it, Mr Piper?" He clapped his hands and said, "someone get out a fiddle and let's have a spot of music, eh?" 

The doctor frowned into his mug, shaking his head slowly. 

"What's the matter?" asked Billy. 

Piper started. "Eh? Oh, nothing's the matter, young man." He smiled reassuringly, getting to his feet as Sparrow crossed to them. "I'll go and check on the wounded," Piper told the captain. 

"Ta," said Sparrow. 

They watched the doctor make his way across the deck. Up on the poop deck one of the pirates had produced a fiddle, and now struck up a lively tune which was met with cheers from the men. 

Sparrow settled down next to Billy. 

"So what'd you think?" he questioned. 

"It's a good story," said Billy. "Was it all true?" 

The captain held out his left hand, and in the blinking lantern-light Billy saw a thin straight scar across the palm. "It's all true, lad. Ask your parents. They'll say the same." 

"But … curses, and skeletons …" Billy said. "And you _killed_ Barbossa?" 

Sparrow looked away, gazing at the rigging. "Aye, I shot him. It's what happens, young Turner. I killed Barbossa. Norrington was going t' be quite happy to hang me. What d'you think your dad's swords are used for?" 

Billy pulled his blanket a little closer around him, and decided to change the subject. 

"What was my grandfather like?" 

"Bill?" said Sparrow. "He looked like your father - or your father looks like 'im, which I s'pose is more likely. I first met Bill Turner when I joined the _Black Pearl_ as a cabin boy. Dunno how old he was, or how long he'd been aboard; but he was good to me when I didn't know one end of a rope from t'other. Taught me me knots. Gave me me first knife. That was afore he went back to Portsmouth to marry his Elsie -" 

"My grandmother?" said Billy, eyes wide. 

"Your grandmother. Never seen a man so in love, apart from your father with his 'Lizabeth. Problem was, she didn't want him away at sea, and he wanted to be at sea. Eventually the sea won. It always does." Sparrow twisted a ring round his finger. "Bill Turner was my first first mate, when I became captain of the _Pearl_," he patted the deck, "and he was me second mate when we set out for Cortés's cursed gold." 

Sparrow fell silent. Wondering where that left his grandfather in terms of the mutiny that had lost the captain his ship, Billy asked the question. 

"Not sure that's a tale for dark nights," said Sparrow, in response. 

"If he wasn't marooned with you he must have mutinied," Billy pointed out. "Did he … was he cursed?" 

"Don't rightly know, lad," said Sparrow lightly. "All I know is he wasn't with Barbossa when I got the _Pearl_ back, so he must've died somewhere along the way. Ain't it your bedtime?" 

Billy sensed that no more answers were to be forthcoming, so he nodded and allowed Sparrow to take him to his cabin. A hammock had been hung in the corner, and Billy climbed in and rolled himself up in more blankets. There was a faint sound of music and dancing from the deck, and a gentle roll as the ship shifted in the quiet waters of the harbour. Sparrow bade him a good night, and left the cabin on soft feet. Alone, Billy fell quickly asleep to dreams of adventure and piles of cursed Aztec gold. 


	6. Chapter 6

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Chapter 6**

Breakfast aboard ship proved to be a bowl of porridge and a hard ship's biscuit that almost broke Billy's teeth. He gave up trying to chew it after fifteen minutes and finished the porridge instead. 

After eating he went up on deck, and explored it more thoroughly. Jack Sparrow was nowhere to be seen, but his crew were friendly towards Billy and quite happy to explain the workings of their vessel. He was taught how to coil a rope, and stood at the helm for a few moments imagining himself steering the _Black Pearl_ through stormy seas. 

By mid-morning, Billy was becoming curious as to where the captain could have got to, and he dared to ask Marty. The sailor was perched on a barrel watching his crewmates at work and cradling his broken arm. 

"You'll see!" he said, mysteriously. 

It was clear no further answers were to be forthcoming, but Marty took pity on Billy and for the next while taught him how to tie a variety of useful knots. Billy, cross-legged on the deck, was intent on mastering the tricky slippery clove-hitch when a pair of shiny boots planted themselves in front of him. He looked up - and his jaw dropped. 

Jack Sparrow had appeared on deck, but this was not the same Jack Sparrow that Billy had said goodnight to the evening before. This Sparrow was transformed, in a clean dark suit of breeches and jacket, a shirt with very little embroidery, and a plain black hat on his head. He had tied back his braided hair and concealed its trinkets beneath the hat, and taken out the braids in his beard. Even his face looked different, and after a moment's staring Billy worked out that the pirate had taken off the black smudges of kohl beneath his eyes. 

"What d'you reckon?" asked Sparrow, grinning broadly and rather spoiling the outfit with his gold teeth. 

"You look like Papa on Sundays," Billy said. 

"Perfect!" exclaimed Sparrow. "Just the effect I was after." 

"But why are you dressed like that?" Billy said. 

Sparrow adjusted his hat. "Because I'm takin' you home, lad, and without that handy little cart of your father's I've got to go incognito, savvy? This way hopefully if we run into a Marine he won't spot I'm a pirate." 

"Better not smile, then, Captain," broke in Piper, coming up from below decks. "Unless you'd like me to pull those teeth out for you?" 

Shaking his head, Sparrow touched one of his sparkling molars. "No ta. You'll be ready, then, doctor?" 

"You're coming too?" Billy asked Piper. The doctor was dressed in a jacket that was as sombre as Sparrow's, and was carrying a small bag. 

"Yes, I am. I need supplies. Captain Sparrow won't let me go ashore alone - seems to think I'll try and escape - but has allowed me to accompany him on this visit." 

"And before you get any ideas about tryin' to escape," Sparrow added, "I'm not weaponless, mate." 

Piper smiled, ruefully. "I hardly thought a pirate would venture ashore without a weapon, Captain Sparrow." 

Billy got to his feet, and handed the short bit of rope he had been knotting back to Marty. The men had been busy lowering one of the _Pearl_'s boats, and Sparrow, followed by Billy and Piper, climbed down a ladder into it. 

Once ashore Sparrow led the way towards Port Royal, Billy trotting to keep up with the longer legs of the two men. Sparrow was busy talking to Piper, gesticulating as he did so, the doctor responding with curt nods. 

To Billy's surprise Sparrow did not take them to the Turners' house, instead taking a turning earlier on and leading them down a quicker route into Port Royal itself. As the first dwellings came into sight, the pirate captain paused. 

"Now, Billy lad, there's summat I want you to do, all right? If we're stopped by anyone, you don't know me and the good doctor. We asked you for directions to the blacksmith's, and as you're the blacksmith's son you offered to take us there. Savvy?" 

"All right," Billy said, hoping they would not be stopped. 

"Good lad." Sparrow gave him an encouraging smile, and the doctor sighed deeply. 

"Captain, need I remind you to keep your teeth _hidden_?" 

"No," said Sparrow, but he closed his mouth and squared his shoulders, altering his stance so he no longer looked like the pirate captain he was. Instead he became an ordinary man - perhaps a merchant, or maybe a well-to-do shopkeeper. 

They passed into the town, Billy walking by the men's side as it he was leading the way. He had the feeling though that Sparrow knew the route to the blacksmith's shop as well as he did. The town was busy with its people going about their business, and Billy felt a frisson of excitement run through him when he thought that he was walking the street in the company of a pirate and a pirate's captive. 

"There's the apothecary's," said Piper, as they walked past it. 

"Later," Sparrow said, quietly. "Never fear, doctor, we'll get your stuff." 

Billy saw the wooden sign swinging over the blacksmith's shop, which stood open to allow the bright day to enter into the dark room. He pointed. 

"There, sir, that's the smithy." 

"Thank you, young man," Sparrow said, surprising Billy again by the way he had smoothed out the rough edges from his voice. "Is your father at work, do you think?" 

"He usually is at this time," Billy returned, suppressing a giggle at the act the pirate was putting on. He led the way into the shop, and burst out, "Father!" 

Will Turner looked up from the rack of new swords, where he was demonstrating the balance of a blade to a pair of smartly-dressed customers. "Billy!" he said. "But where …" His gaze took in Billy's companions, and he frowned very slightly, but recovered quickly. "Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "I will be with you very shortly." 

"Take as long as you need, good sir," said Sparrow, bowing in Will's direction. He and Piper crossed to a display of daggers and bent to examine them. 

Billy crossed the room to his favourite spot on a high stool by the counter, and settled down to watch what would happen next. 

Over by the swords, Will dealt as quickly as he could with his first customers - evidently they had almost made their choices, and both men walked out having placed orders for new weapons. Will turned now to the newcomers, eyebrows raised. 

"I must say, if Billy hadn't been with you," he said, "I wouldn't have recognised you." 

"You mean you did recognise me?" Sparrow looked disappointed. "Pity." 

"I don't think the suit's quite you, though," Will continued. 

"That, my dear William, is the whole point," said Sparrow. "Not to look like me. In case of commodores. Now, as you'll see, I've returned your son in one piece." 

Will nodded, and sent Billy a warm smile. 

"In return," said Sparrow, his voice becoming silky-smooth, "I was hoping you'd find it in yourself to loan me those bits and bobs I wanted." 

"What!" Will folded his arms, and Billy saw his father swiftly growing exasperated with the pirate. "No. I said I couldn't, and I mean that." 

"Why not, Mr Turner?" asked Sparrow. He waved his arm around the forge. "There's one of you, and all manner of tool here." 

"You won't bring them back," said Will. "My answer's no, Jack." 

For a few seconds, Billy thought Sparrow would fight for what he wanted, but the moment passed. The pirate shrugged, apparently giving in. "Very well. We'll make do. Well, having delivered young Billy back t' you, Mr Piper and I ought to be making shift to get back to the ship. Oh aye - Mr William Turner, blacksmith; Mr Andrew Piper, surgeon." 

He made for the door, Piper following. "Master Turner, should you ever decide to go to sea, there'll be a spare hammock for you. Remember where you come from." 

With a smile that had an edge to it, Sparrow and the doctor were gone. Will sighed deeply. "He's impossible," he said. "How was it, Billy?" 

Billy climbed down off his stool and began to tell his father about his time aboard the _Black Pearl_. He was mid-way through an excited account of his climb up the mast when the doorway darkened and Commodore Norrington, resplendent in his blue uniform, entered. Billy broke off talking, and Will wiped his hands on a rag and went to greet the distinguished visitor. 

"Mr Turner. Billy." 

"Commodore," said Will. "I hope everything is well?" 

"Indeed," said the commodore, with his usual brevity. "I have come to enquire as to the progress of the rapiers I ordered." 

"Two are complete," Will said, "the third requires polishing, and the fourth is halfway along. They'll be ready in time, sir." 

Norrington gave one of his brief smiles. "Good. I knew I could rely on you, Mr Turner. How is Mrs Turner?" 

Billy remembered Jack Sparrow telling him that his mother had been briefly engaged to the commodore, and suddenly Norrington's frequent and solicitous enquiries after Elizabeth's health made more sense. 

"She's well, thank you," said Will. 

"I am pleased to hear it," Norrington said. "Well, I will not keep you, Mr Turner." He nodded kindly at Billy. "Before I go, however, I had a report that the _Black Pearl_ was seen off the coast last week," he said. "Could I remind you that it is your duty to inform the fort if Jack Sparrow should attempt to contact you?" 

Assenting with a nod, Will met the commodore's eyes. "I shall." 

"Thank you. Good day, Mr Turner." 

When Norrington was gone, Billy looked at his father. "You wouldn't tell him about Captain Sparrow, would you?" 

Will put his hand on his son's shoulder. 

"No, Billy, I wouldn't." He took off his leather apron. "Come on, we should be getting home - your mother will want to hear all about last night." 

He found the keys to the shop and closed the door, hanging the neat wooden 'Closed' sign outside. Together, father and son made their way along the street, talking all the way. Neither noticed the neat man in the doorway of the apothecary's, watching them intently with a slight smile on his face. 


	7. Chapter 7

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Chapter 7**

The next few days seemed to Billy to be remarkably dull. His parents made him go back to school, with the excuse for his absence that he had been ill - an excuse easily accepted by the schoolmaster who ruled over the little class of Port Royal boys. But he found it hard to concentrate on Latin and mathematics when he thought of Jack Sparrow and the pirates aboard the _Black Pearl_. 

Will Turner had come home that first night with a pinched look about his mouth, and Billy had overheard his parents discussing something to do with chisels in an undertone in the hallway. The next evening, Billy did not see his father, and Elizabeth said that he had stayed late to work on Norrington's commission. The day after that, Will returned to the Turner house with the news that the _Black Pearl_ had sailed. 

"Did you get …" began Elizabeth, before catching sight of Billy watching them. "Billy, sweetheart, could you fetch me my book?" 

He left the room slowly, trying to catch the end of her sentence. But both his parents had dropped their voices. 

Billy, however, was not stupid. He had a fair idea that after he and Will had left the forge, Sparrow had somehow got back in and taken the tools he wanted; and that despite a visit to the hidden bay Will had failed to get the things back. 

The following day was a Sunday. As usual the Turners went to church in the morning, and listened to a long and dull sermon by the vicar about the evils of avarice. In the afternoon, after an excellent lunch cooked by Estrella, Billy went into the garden behind and climbed into the treehouse his father had built for him a few years earlier. He found he wanted to think about what Jack Sparrow had said - _remember where you come from_. 

Until the pirate had appeared on the doorstep, Billy had thought he had a fairly good idea where he came from. There was his mother, and his grandfather, who were rich; and his father, who was not. He knew that his grandfather, Governor Swann, was the son of an English baronet, and had been in Jamaica for twenty years as governor. Billy's mother's mother had died of a fever before Swann brought the young Elizabeth to the Caribbean. Though he had not met them Billy knew he had several great-aunts and great-uncles, not to mention second cousins and other assorted relatives, back in England. 

His father, meanwhile, was an orphan, and Billy had been told the story of how his parents met on several occasions. Elizabeth had been the one to spot the boy floating on a spar, the only survivor of a dreadful shipwreck, and the pair were inseparable until Will was apprenticed to Port Royal's blacksmith. From comments he had overheard, Billy was aware that many people considered Elizabeth had married beneath her station. All he cared about was that his father loved his mother, and she loved him - and this was indubitably true. 

But Jack Sparrow's revelation that Will's father had been a pirate, and the information that Elizabeth had almost married Commodore Norrington, had rather upset Billy's small universe. Now he found himself reflecting on the visit to the _Black Pearl_, majestic despite her injuries, and the compelling figure of her captain. Billy had liked the ship; he had enjoyed climbing the mast and had even found something oddly satisfying in cleaning the brass. 

_Remember where you come from._

Had he enjoyed his time on the ship because it was a day out, something different? Or had he enjoyed it because of something in his blood? 

Did he really want to be a blacksmith? 

Billy swung his legs over the edge of the treehouse and considered the problem. The worst of it was, he reflected, that there was nobody he could really ask for help. His parents would be appalled if he even broached the subject of being a sailor. Commodore Norrington might encourage a naval career, but Billy knew he could not breathe the words "Jack Sparrow" in his presence. 

He thought of the forge, and the heat it generated; of the sweat beading on his father's forehead as he wielded his hammer; of the callouses on his palm. 

And he thought of the wind in his hair as he sat on the _Black Pearl_'s fighting top; of the easy camaraderie of the crew; of the sensation of the ship beneath his feet. 

Billy pulled a bit of string from his pocket and began to tie it in knots. Clove-hitch, reef-knot, bowline. The knots kept slipping, however, and after a short while he threw the string down. He would never get the chance to go to sea, anyway; there was no point even dreaming about it. 

Somehow, having considered the issues and put them aside, it was easier to think of the day with Jack Sparrow as just a short adventure, nothing more. Billy settled back into school and watching his father in the forge, wondering occasionally where the _Black Pearl_ might be but not dwelling on the question. 

Three weeks went by. Will and Elizabeth relaxed, safe in the knowledge that Sparrow had sailed away, and began to tell Billy about the pirate captain. For the first time he heard the story of the cursed Aztec gold from them - he decided not to tell them that Jack Sparrow had already told him the tale. He heard also about the clandestine visits Sparrow had made to Port Royal to visit in the years after the Aztec adventure. Elizabeth explained that those visits ceased abruptly and the Turners had not heard from Jack Sparrow since then; they had given him up for dead, and had settled down to their comfortable, respectable lives. 

"I think we grew out of adventures," Elizabeth said, the evening she and Will told Billy about Sparrow's last visit. "Really, it was quite a bother keeping him a secret from everyone, and he will take risks." 

Will smiled, ruefully. "Sometimes I wonder if he thinks himself invincible," he said. 

"He's very good at what he does," Elizabeth mused. "And I think he enjoys the risks." 

"Of course he enjoys them," said Will. "It's one of the reasons he won't take a letter of marque." 

"Actually, I think he doesn't want to work with James," Elizabeth said. "And why should he? James has, after all, spent most of the last ten years hunting Jack down." 

"So what would happen if Captain Sparrow came to visit again?" asked Billy curiously. "Would you let him in?" 

Elizabeth sighed. "I don't know, Billy. The problem with Jack is that he tends to find a way of getting in if you don't let him in. But I don't think he'll be back, not soon at any rate." She smiled at him. "I'm sorry, the excitement's all over." 

He smiled back. "It's all right." 

Will looked up from the book he had turned to. "If it helps compensate for the lack of Jack Sparrow, Billy, I thought I'd start teaching you fencing next week." 

"Really?" 

"Really. You're old enough, now." 

The prospect of learning to use a sword buoyed Billy's mood, and he began to count down the days to his first lesson the following Sunday. 

The Friday beforehand, Billy left home in the morning for school having promised to meet his mother at the Governor's residence for tea in the afternoon. His father had already gone to the forge, intent on completing the last sword for Commodore Norrington before the day was out. It was a beautiful day, with a breeze cooling the hot sunshine, and Billy swung his bag as he wandered along the street. His mind wandered; from the fencing lesson to the day's schoolwork to what might be on the tea table that afternoon. He hoped there would be cake. 

So it was somewhat of a shock to have his arm gripped by an unseen hand and to be pulled into an alleyway. 

"Shhh!" said a voice, as Billy prepared to yell. 

Billy turned to see who had grabbed him. "Mr Gibbs?" he said. 

The grizzled sailor nodded. "Aye." 

"How's your head?" asked Billy, remembering that when he was aboard the _Black Pearl_ Gibbs had been laid up after having hit his head. 

"Better," said Gibbs, tapping his forehead with a fist. "Doc fixed me up. Now, lad. 'Spect you're wondering what I'm doing 'ere." 

"I was," admitted Billy. "Where's the …" 

"Don't mention the ship," Gibbs cut in quickly. "Never know who might be list'ning." He bent down, and lowered his voice. "I've a message from the cap'n. He wants to know if you've thought about what he said." 

Nodding, Billy said, "I did." 

"And he says," Gibbs went on, "that we're after a cabin boy. And he reckons nobody but the grandson of Bootstrap Bill will do." He eyed Billy sideways-on. "We _are_ after a cabin boy," he said. "We picked one up in Tortuga couple o' weeks ago, but he spent ten days being sick so we dumped the lad." 

"Dumped him?" said Billy, horrified. 

"In Tortuga," explained Gibbs. "Not over the side. So how about it?" 

Billy said nothing. He was not quite sure what to say. Gibbs's casual dismissal of the cabin boy had abruptly reminded him of something Jack Sparrow had said to him. "What your mother can't understand is that piracy's a mite dirtier than her little pamphlets'll make it out to be." 

Gibbs raised a pair of bushy eyebrows. "Well, boy?" 

"Can I think about it?" Billy asked, in a rush. "I mean … I don't know … Papa's going to teach me to fight, and there's Mama, too, she wouldn't like me going to sea …" He looked up at Gibbs. "I don't know, sir." 

"There, there." Gibbs patted his shoulder, understandingly. "Cap'n thought you'd say that. He says, if you're willing, you're to meet me by the crossroads near your house tomorrow mornin', sunrise. With some clothes and that. A jacket, and a hat, and spare breeches and a shirt. It can get a mite mucky at sea." 

"All right." Billy nodded. "I'll think about it." 

Gibbs grinned. "Good lad. Remember nobody'll think the worse o' ye if you don't come." He made to go, but paused. "Last thing. If you do go, leave this for your ma and pa." 

Billy took the piece of folded parchment Gibbs held out. 

"Means they'd blame Jack, not you," Gibbs explained. "Right then. Maybe I'll see you tomorrow, lad." 

He slipped off down the alleyway. Billy looked down at the parchment and unfolded it. On it were a few words in a bold, sloping hand marred by several ink blotches. 

"Mr & Mrs Turner; finding myself in need of a cabin boy I've made bold to choose young William. Piracy's in his blood and it's time you squared with that. JS." 

Thoughtfully, Billy tucked the note away in his jacket and continued on to school. 


	8. Chapter 8

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Chapter 8**

It was still dark when Billy woke, after a fitful night. He had been scared to go to sleep, worrying about waking before sunrise and missing Mr Gibbs at the crossroads. Before going to sleep, he had packed a small bag with the extra clothes he needed, so getting up was merely a matter of putting on shirt and breeches from the day before. 

Billy picked up his bag and examined his room in the half-light coming from the window. After a moment's contemplation, he pulled back the sheet covering the bed, messed up the bed clothes, and as quietly as possible opened the window wider. Jack Sparrow's letter to his parents was left on the pillow. 

Next, holding his shoes in his hand, he tiptoed silently past his parents' door and down the stairs, stepping over the loose floorboard that creaked. The front door opened softly enough, and Billy ran down the road a short distance before putting on his shoes. 

By the time he was at the crossroads, looking over his shoulder every ten seconds in case someone had followed, the sun was beginning to peep over the horizon. But Gibbs was already waiting, chewing on a bit of grass and picking at his nails. He looked up as Billy approached, and grinned broadly. 

"I didn't reckon you'd come, lad!" he said. 

Billy smiled, nervously. "I brought my clothes." He held up the bag, and Gibbs took it. 

"C'mon, then." 

They kept to the side of the road, out of sight, and talked little. Gibbs led the way. At one point Billy asked if the ship was anchored in the same bay as it had been a month before, and Gibbs confirmed it was. Indeed, a short while later they came down the hill and into the open, where the _Black Pearl_ lay in the early morning sunlight. 

Billy gasped. If the ship had been lovely before, when her crew were hard at work mending her, she was magnificent now. All her masts were whole, and the sails had been neatly stowed along the yard-arms. At this early hour few were on deck, but when Gibbs gave the signal whistle there was an instant response, and soon the boat was paddling the _Black Pearl_'s newest crewmember towards the ship. 

A lean black pirate with an interesting scar above his eye helped Billy over the railing with a cheerful "welcome aboard", and Gibbs followed with Billy's little bag of things. The deck was clean and tidy with all the ropes coiled and stowed in their places, and it seemed as though the _Pearl_ was a different creature from how she had been just weeks before. 

Billy looked upwards at the masts, and around at the ropes, and squinted at the brass, and wondered exactly what he would be doing. 

His reverie was broken by the sound of booted feet and the gentle jangle of bits of metal. 

"I knew you'd come," said Jack Sparrow, cheerfully. "Welcome to the _Black Pearl_, once again, Master Turner. Did you escape all right?" 

"I don't think I woke anyone up," Billy said. "And I left your letter on my pillow, and messed up the sheets a bit so they'll think you took me." 

Sparrow laughed. "We'll turn you into a pirate yet, lad. Mr Gibbs!" 

"Aye, sir?" 

"Wake all hands. I want to get her underway before our cabin boy's parents find he's gone and rouse the Navy. Billy?" 

Billy met his new captain's eyes, and said smartly, "Aye, sir?" just like Gibbs. 

"Take your bag below; there's a hammock for you in the sleeping quarters. Then come to the poop deck - up there - and stay out of the way while the men set sail, savvy?" 

"Aye, aye, sir," Billy repeated, and followed Gibbs down to the sleeping quarters. An empty hammock had been hung for him with a blanket and a box beneath it to help him get in; he threw his bag in and watched as Gibbs woke the crew through a mixture of shouting and prodding. The men yawned and grumbled as they climbed out of hammocks and into clothes, but within just a short space of time everyone had gone on deck. Billy followed, and obeyed Sparrow's orders by climbing the stairs to the poop deck and finding himself a quiet corner to watch proceedings. Half the men had scurried to climb the masts, and when Billy craned his neck to look aloft he saw that they had spread out along the yard arms and were busy untying ropes and allowing the sails to fall loose. Down below, other men were walking around the capstan, raising the anchor with a rattle of chain. 

"Man the sweeps!" called Jack Sparrow, and those on deck disappeared below. "They'll get us out of the bay and into the wind," Sparrow explained, in answer to Billy's curious look. 

All the sails had been untied now, and the men aloft came hurrying down to the deck again. While Sparrow and Gibbs looked on from the poop deck, Hooper called out orders, the men hauled on ropes and the sails were pulled down to fill with wind. 

The ship, powered by the men pulling on the sweeps, moved slowly out of the shelter of the land. Guided by Gibbs at the wheel, she came into the wind; the loose sails filled and the _Black Pearl_ began to really move. 

"Easy sweeps!" Sparrow ordered. "All hands to bracing stations … bracing the foremast to port …" 

Hooper relayed the orders, and Billy watched in awe as the men hauled the yards of the mast so they were angled to the left. After that they repeated with the mainmast, and suddenly the ship was flying across the waves, leaning over with her black sails full of wind. 

Sparrow looked across at him, his golden grin warm and real. "Well?" he said. 

"It's wonderful," said Billy, meaning it. 

"Mr Gibbs!" said Sparrow. 

"Aye, sir?" 

"Set a course for Porto Rico." 

"Porto Rico it is, cap'n," Gibbs responded, turning the wheel slightly. "Headin' east." 

On deck, Hooper called more orders and the men began to tidy up the ropes that had been uncoiled as the sails were set. Billy peered over the side of the ship, marvelling at the water foaming under the hull, before looking forward in awe at the billowing black sails. 

Coming up to him, Sparrow laid a be-ringed hand on his shoulder. "This is the real _Pearl_, lad, flying free. Now, come below and we'll get you signed on as a member of the crew." 

They started down the steps to the deck, but halfway down were brought up short by a figure blocking their way. Sparrow swayed and stopped, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword. 

"Mr Piper," he said. 

The doctor's arms were folded, and there was a thunderous look on his face. Billy decided he ought to watch from a distance, and retreated a few steps. 

"This is why we came back to Jamaica?" said Piper. "For the boy?" 

"He was one o' the reasons, aye," Sparrow replied. "Did you fancy tendin' young Ted's seasickness for another month?" 

"No." Piper shook his head. "No, of course not. He was utterly unsuited to a life at sea. But so is the Turner boy. He has a trade to go to, Captain; an honest trade. And he has parents who love him, an education. He wasn't born to go to sea." He raised his eyebrows at Sparrow. "For God's sake, man, turn around and put him ashore." 

Sparrow took a step down, bringing him right up against the motionless figure of the surgeon. "Stand down, Mr Piper. What goes on on my ship does not concern you. The lad chose to come aboard, and aboard he's staying." 

There was a moment's tense silence, and then Piper stepped down the stairs on to the deck. 

"Ta," said Sparrow. "And for your information, Mr Piper, he _was_ born to go to sea. His grandfather was one of the best I ever sailed with, and I've sailed with a few. His father knew nothing, but would've picked it up like that," he snapped his fingers in the surgeon's face, "if he'd stayed." He turned to Billy. "C'mon, lad. Articles to sign." 

Billy followed the captain, throwing a sideways glance at Piper as he did so. The doctor, scowling, turned his back and crossed to the rail. 

"Turner!" Sparrow said, and Billy hurried after him. 

In the quiet gloom of Sparrow's cabin, the tilt of the ship seemed more pronounced. Sitting in a chair Billy watched as his new captain easily negotiated the small space and its obstacles to produce a thick, leather-bound book, quill and ink, and bring them across to the large table dominating the cabin. He tapped the cover. 

"Ship's articles," he said, opening it at the beginning and flicking through several pages. "Every man who's ever willingly sailed on this ship's signed this book - or tried to." Sparrow indicated a rough cross next to one name, and turned more pages. "This was me, when I was your age." 

Leaning over the book, Billy saw a neat entry dated many years ago, with the name 'Jack Sparrow, cabin boy, Portsmouth' next to it, and a scrawled signature. 

Sparrow explained that on the first page there was a list of conditions which Billy was agreeing to by signing his name. The list had been amended several times, with crossings-out and rewrites in a variety of different hands. Reading over it, Billy saw that the rules were simple and consisted principally of respecting crewmates and obeying orders. 

The book was nearly full, and Sparrow turned almost to the last page before he found a space. Dipping quill in ink, he wrote carefully, 'William Turner, cabin boy, Port Royal' on the clean parchment, and passed Billy the quill. 

"Last chance to turn back," he said. "If you don't want t' sign, I will put you ashore." 

Billy took the quill, and inscribed his name next to his entry. 

Sparrow smiled at him, and blotted the page. "Thanks, lad." 

"Can I see where my grandfather signed?" asked Billy, curious to see the signature of the earlier William Turner. 

Bootstrap Bill's entry in the articles was close to the beginning of the book - 'William Turner, able seaman, Portsmouth'. His signature was long and sloping. Reaching out to touch it with a finger, Billy found himself wishing he could have met his grandfather, and resolved to find out more about him from Jack Sparrow when he could. 

They left the cabin and Sparrow led the way back up on deck. The men had tidied up now, and the rails were hung with perfectly-coiled rope. The _Black Pearl_'s captain surveyed her happily, before beckoning to Hooper. 

"Billy, you met Mr Hooper before, I think. He's me bo'sun, and I'd be hard-pressed to find a better. Mr Hooper, Master Billy Turner, our new cabin boy. I'd like you to show him the ropes today, give him some jobs to do, keep the lad out of mischief." 

"He don't look too mischievous," Hooper said, grinning at Billy. "Aye, cap'n, I'll be glad to look after him. There's plenty to be done." 

Sparrow thanked Hooper with a little bow, and sauntered off towards the poop deck. Hooper turned in the opposite direction, making for the bow; Billy followed, full of anticipation for what the rest of the day might bring. 


	9. Chapter 9

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Chapter 9**

Billy was sitting cross-legged on the deck, intent on mending rope-ends. They were five days out of Jamaica, and so far there had been no sight of the white sails of the Navy. And Billy was enjoying himself - he had now climbed, once, to the topmost sails; he had been taught the tasks of a cabin boy and had taken part in his first gun-drill as powder monkey; he was becoming used to helping the cook and waiting on Jack Sparrow when the captain chose to dine in his cabin. 

He cut the end of the piece of cord he was winding around the rope, and examined his handiwork carefully. 

"Looks good," came a voice from above, and Piper sat down by his side. "Maybe the captain was right - maybe you are supposed to be a sailor." 

"Maybe," said Billy, picking up the next bit of rope. 

"But I think your parents will be looking for you," Piper pursued. 

Billy nodded. 

The doctor sighed. "Billy, why did you choose to come aboard the _Black Pearl_?" 

"I liked it," Billy said. "And I like Captain Sparrow." 

"But …" Piper leaned over, "you've run away to sea, on a pirate ship. That's a serious thing to do, Billy." 

"The captain ran away when he was my age," Billy countered. "I'm old enough, sir." 

"I'm not saying you're not old enough," Piper said. "I know many lads your age work hard at a trade. Many aren't as lucky as you, though. They don't all have parents that love them, and grandfathers who are important men." 

Billy frowned at his rope end, which was refusing to behave. "One of my grandfathers is important," he pointed out. "The other one was a pirate. And the only person who ever told me about him was Captain Sparrow. My father didn't." He unwrapped the cord and began the end again. 

"You could have joined the Navy," Piper suggested. "If you wanted to go to sea." 

"I want to know about my grandfather," said Billy. 

Piper got to his feet, and stood for a second looking down at Billy. "Very well, then," he said. "I wish you luck, Master Turner." 

He walked away, and disappeared below deck. 

Hooper came up to Billy, looking after the doctor. "What did 'e want?" he asked, squatting down to examine the ropes. 

"I'm not sure," said Billy. "Are these all right?" 

The bo'sun gathered up the coils, and nodded. 

"They're good," he said. "Nice work, lad. Now, the cook says he needs someone to peel taters, so if you'd run along t' the galley we'd all be mighty obliged." 

Billy put his knife away in his pocket, and went along to the galley, where the ship's cook pointed him to a big sack of potatoes and gave him a peeling knife. As he set to work, he considered Piper's words. 

It was true that he found himself missing his parents, but less than he had feared. He missed the little touches they gave him - the pat on the shoulder from his father, the peck on the cheek before bed from his mother. But he was enjoying being treated as an equal member of the crew, and not as a small boy. He liked having jobs to do that were useful, and not merely learning sums or translating passages of Latin by rote. 

He cut out a rotten piece of potato and tossed it accurately out of the porthole. 

If he was honest with himself, Billy reflected, he was a little scared about the prospect of the first attack that he would be involved in. He had asked Sparrow when this might happen, and the captain had smiled in a particularly piratical way and said, "whenever we see the right ship, lad". But the seas were quiet, and they were beating quickly towards Porto Rico with few vessels of any size in sight. 

"I need them taters today, not tomorrer," said the cook, breaking in on his thoughts. 

"Sorry," Billy apologised, and set to the potatoes with renewed vigour. 

The potatoes, eaten with salt pork that had been stewed, proved a good lunch, and Billy had some free time afterwards. He obtained Hooper's permission, and climbed up to the foretop to practise his knots in solitude. Now that he had ascended the rigging more than once he found himself feeling perfectly comfortable on the round platform; it had the additional advantage of being a good place to watch the blue sea passing by when knots became too dull. 

He had tied five successful reef knots and six half-hitches in succession when he looked up idly at the horizon, and saw the sails. Dropping his bit of rope, he stood up to see better. There was definitely a ship, off to the port bow of the _Black Pearl_, with two tall masts crowded with white canvas. 

Billy hung on to the shrouds, leaned over the edge of the fighting top, and yelled at the top of his voice, "Sail ho! Sail ho!" 

Below him there was instantly a flurry of activity, and Gibbs's voice came back up from the poop. 

"What sort o' sail?" 

"Two masts!" Billy called back. 

"Wait there, lad!" said Gibbs. 

Billy waited, watching the other ship. Shortly, one of the pirates - a young Scot named McRobb - came climbing quickly up the rigging to join Billy on the top. 

"Where is she?" McRobb asked, and Billy pointed. McRobb shaded his eyes, squinting towards the ship. "Oh, she's a bonny one," he said. "Merchant brig. Fully laden. We've struck lucky, lad." 

Down on deck, McRobb reported the sighting to Gibbs, full of enthusiasm. 

"I'd say she was headin' toward us," said McRobb. "Low in the water." 

"Catch a glimpse of her colours?" asked Sparrow, appearing from below buckling on his sword-belt. 

McRobb shook his head. "No, cap'n. She's still too far." 

"We'll see soon enough," Sparrow said. "Well-spotted, Mr McRobb." 

"'T'were the lad that saw her first," Gibbs said. 

Sparrow turned one of his most glittering grins on Billy. "Well done, Master Turner!" he said, before raising his voice. "All right, you scallywags!" he called. "Merchant vessel, with us in a few hours. We'll sail colourless until she can't escape. We'd do to be sailin' a little faster, so let's cast loose the t'gallants, tighten up that main brace, and get some wind behind us, eh?" He turned on his heel, heading for the poop deck, and paused with a finger in the air. "Oh, and prepare the guns." 

The next hours were feverishly busy. As Sparrow gave his orders, men scurried up the rigging and soon the ship had picked up speed under the extra canvas of the topgallants. Billy then spent some time following crewmembers around the gun deck as the guns were prepared to be fired - cannonballs placed close, fuses checked and ready - before helping Hooper to wake those pirates who were asleep. After that Piper enlisted him to tear up cloth for use as bandages, in case of injury. The doctor was in a dour mood and said very little as he readied his equipment. 

They had closed a considerable distance on the merchant vessel by this point, and the men were on deck and armed. Sparrow had sent Billy up to the fighting top again, partly to keep an eye on the progress of the other ship and partly, he said, to keep his cabin boy "out of mischief". Marty was to act as powder-monkey for the gun-crews. Although he had put his knife in his belt, Billy found that he was not too disappointed he was out of harm's way. For the first time at least, it would be good to watch what happened. 

He put Sparrow's spare telescope to his eye and peered through it at the merchant vessel. To his surprise, he saw a man on her deck looking almost straight back at him, and the crew running around in a disorganised fashion. 

Billy closed the telescope and shouted down his sighting; shortly, McRobb appeared on the poop deck with a bundle of black cloth. Soon the great Jolly Roger - a grinning white skull, surmounting a cutlass crossed with a noose - was streaming out behind the _Black Pearl_. Billy raised the telescope again, and discovered that the merchant crew had panicked. On the brig's poop deck, two men were having an argument about something. 

Below him on the deck of the _Pearl_, the pirates had gathered. All were armed. Grappling irons lay ready to be thrown. 

The _Pearl_ was closing now, and though the merchants seemed to be trying to steer away and escape the effort was proving useless. 

"Ready the guns!" called Sparrow from his place on the poop deck. Billy heard the order relayed below to the gun deck. "Single broadside across the bows!" the captain shouted. 

The cannon boomed. A shot whipped away from the _Black Pearl_ with a puff of smoke, and landed with a splash not ten yards in front of the brig's bows. 

"Grapples!" Sparrow ordered. His crew bent and picked up the coils of rope, ready to swing - but Billy had seen the merchant sailors hurrying to the halyards, and a plain white flag was being hauled up to blow out in the breeze. 

"We surrender!" came a shout from the other ship. The call was followed by more activity aboard her, and soon the brig had hove to and was floating motionless. 

The _Black Pearl_ had passed her prey while the merchants were busy with sail and surrender flag, but under Sparrow's orders and the men hauling hard on the halyards and braces she swung around, came into the wind, and was soon alongside the brig. For the first time, Billy realised just how big his ship was - she dwarfed the merchant vessel, and the pirates ranged along the rail of the _Pearl_ were looking down upon the frightened sailors on the other deck. 

On an order from Sparrow, the first wave of pirates swung their grapples, catching the rail of the brig and linking the two ships. Planks were laid to cross the narrow gap, and nimbly, with the ease of long practice, the crew crossed to the merchant. 

Billy, realising that there was not to be a fight, pushed the telescope in his waistband and began to climb down the rigging to the deck. However he hung back away from the activity, and watched from a safe distance as Sparrow took a coil of rope off a belaying pin, gave the sheet a firm tug to check it was secure, and swung flamboyantly across to the captive merchant. 

As some of the pirates swarmed the brig, searching for valuables, the rest kept a close eye on her crew. Sparrow appeared to be deep into a one-sided conversation with the merchant captain, complete with much waving of a dagger and leaning over into the other man's space. 

It did not take long to transfer several chests of goods and money over to the _Black Pearl_, along with all the weapons from the merchant sailors. Billy leaned against the starboard rail, looking on. Piper had come up from below at some point, evidently having decided his medical expertise was not going to be needed this time around, and was standing next to Billy. 

Sparrow was the last person back aboard the _Black Pearl_. He ordered the planks to be removed, and the grapples cast loose. Gravely, he bowed towards the merchant brig, even as Hooper called for the sails to be set and the _Pearl_ began to make way once more. 

They left the brig floating - undamaged, unharmed, but with a dazed crew and lying considerably lighter in the water. 


	10. Chapter 10

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Chapter 10**

"Shark stew, sir," said Billy, carefully putting the bowl down on the table in front of Jack Sparrow. "And the cook says there's preserved fruit for afterwards." 

"Thanks," Sparrow said, picking up his spoon. He held it, poised, above the food, and looked up at Billy. "Sit down for a bit, lad, and talk to an old pirate while he eats." 

"But the cook …" 

"I'm captain aboard this ship, not Mr Lewis," Sparrow returned. "C'mon, sit down." 

Billy pulled out a chair and sat down, leaning his elbows on the table. The captain took a mouthful of stew, chewing it thoughtfully. 

"Good lookout today, lad," he said through the mouthful. "You seem t'have settled in nicely. Not that I ever doubted you would. Hooper speaks well of your work." 

Beaming, Billy said, "thank you." 

"Doin' better than the last cabin boy," added Sparrow. He dug his spoon into the bowl. 

"Can I ask something, sir?" asked Billy, emboldened by Sparrow's cheerful mood. 

"Go 'head," said the captain, waving his spoon in the air. 

"Why me?" said Billy. 

"Why not you?" returned Sparrow. 

"Well," said Billy, "because of Mama and Papa, and Grandfather, and the commodore. I wanted to come, but I think they'll be looking for me." 

"Of course they'll be lookin'," Sparrow agreed. "Wouldn't be much use as parents if they weren't, would they?" He swallowed his mouthful, and put his spoon down. "I wanted you 'cos I reckoned you'd be a good cabin boy," he said. "You seemed t' like it, that day we all came to visit. And me, I've got what you might call a nose for a good sailor. Couldn't abide the thought of you ending up a blacksmith like your dad, at least not without having _tried_ the seafaring life." 

Billy leaned his chin in his hands, and tried to decide how serious Sparrow was being. "If Papa comes to get me," he said, "I suppose I'll have to go with him." 

"Why?" Sparrow asked. "When I were your age, I made me own choices." 

"Yes, but I'm not you, am I, sir?" Billy said. 

Sparrow scraped out his bowl. "Look, lad, if young William comes to fetch you, I won't stop you goin'. Particularly if he comes with bloody Norrington in tow and a ship full of Marines. I'm not that daft. But you'll have to decide on your own whether or not you want to go, savvy? Don't let him decide for you." 

"All right." Billy slid off his chair and picked up the empty bowl. "Thank you, sir." 

They arrived at Porto Rico the next afternoon, anchoring out in the wide bay off San Juan, a bustling town. Sparrow had ordered Portuguese colours to be flown from the stern of the _Black Pearl_, with the theory being that the Spanish colonists would be more friendly to a ship hailing from the shores of an ally than a pirate vessel. 

Billy was allowed to go ashore with Lewis, the cook, to shop for supplies. With McRobb accompanying them to help carry the goods, they bought sacks of fresh fruit and vegetables, fresh meat and fish, and bread. 

When night came, the crew piled into the _Pearl_'s boats and headed for the town's taverns. Sparrow ordered Billy to stay aboard, along with Piper, saying San Juan was too dangerous at night for a boy. 

"'Sides," he added, smoothing down his moustache, "when I was left aboard this ship as a lad I managed to scupper a plot that would've seen all our swag looted from us. But that was in Tortuga. Anyway, Billy, keep an eye on her, and on the doctor." 

"What, I pray, is that supposed to mean?" Piper asked, arms folded. They were standing by the rail watching the pirates disembark. 

"Just what it sounds like," said Sparrow cheerfully. "Have a good evening." He grinned at them, and climbed nimbly down into the last boat. 

"Hmpf," said Piper, turning away. 

Standing on tiptoe and leaning on the rail, Billy watched the splash of the oars fade into the night. Eventually they were gone, and he turned away. 

Piper was pacing the deck, pausing every few steps and glaring at the sea. He glowered at Billy mid-pace. 

"Do you think it's swim-able?" he asked, his heel scraping on the deck. "Would there be sharks?" 

"What would you do if you got to shore?" Billy wondered. 

"Go to the authorities. Maybe." He threw his hands in the air. "I can't really swim, anyway." 

Billy suppressed a laugh. "Sorry, sir. It's just … do you hate it that much?" 

Piper sighed, and laid a hand on his shoulder. "No, I don't. Though I would like some freedom. Ignore me, Billy; I am just frustrated. It doesn't help that there is a surprising lack of scurvy aboard this vessel." 

"I'm going to climb the rigging," said Billy. 

The water of the bay was sheltered, and there was barely a rock on the water as he climbed out on to the rail and began the ascent of the shrouds. As it was so calm, he went further than he had originally planned and ended up sitting on the cross trees, looking out at the lights of the town. He wondered what the crew was getting up to, in the taverns of San Juan. 

After a while Billy caught himself yawning, and began the climb down to the deck. He was surprised, on reaching the fighting top, to find Piper sitting there with his legs over the edge, also gazing at the town. 

"I thought I'd follow your lead and look for freedom aloft," the doctor said, with a smile. "Although I haven't got your head for heights." 

Billy sat down next to him. "You should tell Captain Sparrow you can climb," he suggested. "He might ask you to help setting sail." 

"Lord, no!" exclaimed Piper. "I would not be able to manage this when we're under way. I'll leave that to you sailors." He glanced over at Billy. "You're yawning." 

"I'm going to bed now, sir," Billy said. "Good night." 

"Sleep well." 

Billy left the doctor still staring out over San Juan, and went to his hammock where he fell into a deep and dreamless sleep. 

They stayed another day in the harbour, bringing on more supplies and carrying out a few small maintenance jobs. The day after that, when the cook, Piper and the carpenter had all declared they had enough in the way of food, medicine and other assorted essentials to last several more weeks, the _Black Pearl_ set sail once more. 

Sparrow had declared his intention to sail down to the Windward Islands, beating south in search of richly-laden merchant vessels weary after their long trek across the treacherous Atlantic. The crew, including Billy, were enthusiastic both at the thought of raiding some ships, and also of visiting islands they had not been to for a while. 

"Met a lass on Dominica, I did," said McRobb thoughtfully, after Sparrow had announced the plan. "Bonny little thing, she were." 

"It ain't like she'll remember you, man," cut in Hooper. "Billy, got a job for you." 

"Maybe she will," Billy offered, sliding off the bench in the mess he was sitting on next to McRobb. "You never know." 

"Turner!" Hooper called, and Billy hurried after the bo'sun. 

The wind was fair over the next few days, and with her black royals set the _Black Pearl_ raced south. They were out of sight of land, aiming for the best winds, and once again Billy was reminded of why he had joined the ship. The ship seemed to hum as she sliced through the blue waves, with the shrouds thrumming and the breeze playing a steady melody on the canvas of the sails. 

During quieter moments he and some of the younger crewmembers listened as Sparrow or Gibbs taught the basics of navigation by sun and stars. Craning over charts, they tried to work out where they were and how far it might be to the nearest island. Sparrow explained how to watch out for approaching storms or changes in the weather, and brought out his treasured barometer for inspection. 

"Took this off an Italian merchant," he said, tapping the delicate glass. "It's a clever little thing. Bloody expensive though, so don't drop it, eh?" 

Billy watched the thin line of precious quicksilver in the bulb, and marvelled at it. 

But the barometer did not change, and the wind remained constant. The days passed, each one rolling into the other, and the men were starting to mutter that there would be no pickings. Billy did not much care; he was still liking being at sea too much to mind that there was no action. 

One morning, however, things changed. He came up on deck after a good night's sleep to find sails on the horizon and the morning watch preparing grappling irons. Marty grinned at Billy. 

"We got ourselves a ship," he said, gesturing towards the other vessel. "And this one'll be fun." 


	11. Chapter 11

_**Disclaimer:** not mine, honest!_

**Author's note:** Real Life ate my writing time. But this story ain't over yet, and it will be finished. Thanks for reading!

**Chapter 11**

Billy wiped his brow. It was hot on the gun deck, and he had been scurrying around for what seemed like hours with powder for the cannon. 

Marty's concept of fun appeared to be shared by most of the crew. It involved fighting a pitched battle with a ship almost as well-armed as the _Black Pearl_ and which was determined not to give in to the pirates. Consequently initial exchanges of fire, which had fallen mostly short of their targets, had swiftly been followed by more accurate shots. The _Pearl_ had sustained some damage to her hull, but her masts were intact so far. Billy was working hard to help keep the guns loaded, as the men aimed and fired again and again. 

There was a boom, and a crash, and the pirates let out a cheer. 

"Foremast down," said McRobb. 

The _Black Pearl_ heeled suddenly, amid shouting from on deck. Billy leaned against the wall, holding on to a bulwark, and guessed that Sparrow was taking them closer to the target vessel so the pirates could board her. Indeed next there came a lurch and the sound of grapples whistling through the air, followed by the clash of swords and more yelling. 

"Billy!" came a cry. Billy let go of the bulwark and picked up the little powder-keg once more. It seemed that though the other vessel was boarded, the fighting was not yet over. 

But the loaded cannon were never fired. As Billy and McRobb carefully poured gunpowder into the last one, Hooper appeared on the gundeck and brusquely ordered everyone above; there was to be no scuppering of the enemy ship. 

On deck Billy saw the extent of the damage the _Black Pearl_'s guns had caused. The foremast of the captured merchant was lying half across her bowsprit, half in the water, with several large gashes in her hull. Sparrow, along with several of his crew, was swiftly subduing the rebellious sailors aboard the other ship. Some of the merchant sailors were sitting in a group guarded by pirates with drawn swords, nursing bloody injuries. A short distance away, two inert bodies lay on deck. 

Billy grimaced and looked away, feeling a little ill. 

"Are you all right, Billy?" It was Piper. 

He nodded, and pulled himself together. "Just being below too long, sir." 

"Hmmm." Piper was holding his little leather bag of equipment. "Well, stay here, and don't come across to that other ship." He climbed up on to the narrow gangplank and carefully, but confidently, walked across it and went to tend to the injured. 

Billy was not left alone long, and was shortly distracted from feeling sick by the arrival of the first haul from the captured vessel. He stood by the rail of the _Pearl_ and helped carry the goods across to a space by the mainmast, where they were stacked ready to be sorted later. 

On board the other ship, Sparrow was now engaged in an intense conversation with a group of the merchant sailors. Piper, bending down, was busy stitching a wound, and his patient let out a blood-curdling yell. 

"Good man, the doc," said Hooper, lugging a chest across to the pile of loot. "Good doc, too." 

But Billy was watching the captain. "What's happening?" he asked, as Sparrow shook hands with one of the merchants, sheathed his sword and sauntered cheerfully back towards the _Pearl_. 

"Looks like the cap'n's bringing on a couple of new men," said Hooper, glancing up. "Happens, occasionally." 

Sure enough, Sparrow was followed back aboard by three of the merchant sailors, each with a small bag of things. Piper was last to set foot on the _Pearl_, casting a final look back at the injured sailors on the other ship. The grapples were cast loose, the gangplank removed, and with the pirates hauling away the _Black Pearl_ moved away from the stricken merchant ship. 

Sparrow strode across to the loot and examined it with a critical eye. 

"Good," he said. "Nice work, gents. Let's get it below, and find our new crewmates a berth, aye?" 

The pirates sprang into action, and in short order the deck was clear. Billy leaned on the rail and watched the merchant ship recede into the distance. As he watched, there was a splash; a short while later the white canvas of the maincourse inched slowly up the mast. 

"They're all right, then," said Piper, appearing beside Billy. 

"Will those men live?" asked Billy. 

"Possibly. They don't have a surgeon, but they're not far from land. I pray they'll survive." 

"Of course they'll survive, you bleedin' idiot," Sparrow said, from behind them. "I don't scupper vessels, nor do I leave 'em without vittles and water. Surely you've learnt that by now, Mr Piper?" 

"I never quite know when to trust you," Piper said. 

"Sensible man," Sparrow agreed. "I'm a pirate. Not to be trusted. But being a pirate don't mean killing folk without reason." He laid a hand on Billy's shoulder. "Cook wants you, lad." 

At the evening meal, boosted by few small luxuries taken from the merchant, the new men were introduced to the crew. All three were young, and though they seemed nervous in the company of the pirates they were good-humoured enough to take the joking they were greeted with lightly. Sparrow ordered the rum to be broached, and as Billy went sleepily off to his hammock he could hear the singing begin up on deck. 

They put in at Dominica for a night to restock with fresh water and fresh food, and for Piper to replenish his supplies of bandages - somewhat depleted after the raid. And then they were off again, following the wind. 

Some days Billy sat astride the bowsprit and watched the water rush by underneath him, the breeze blowing his hair back off his face, and he wondered where his old life had gone. The little boy who was tucked up in bed each night by his mother and Estrella, the bored pupil, the apprentice blacksmith - sometimes he thought they must have been different people, in a different time. The _Black Pearl_ had become a home, and the pirates family, of a sort. He was now proficient at climbing, sharp-eyed on lookout and able to tie any knot Hooper might ask him to tie. And he was happy. 

So he was not quite sure what to say when, five days on from the raid, one of the new men - a tough sailor from Liverpool with an accent to match - popped his head into the galley with the news that there were Navy sails on the horizon, and could Billy come to the helm? 

Billy wiped his hands, and followed the man on deck to where Sparrow was standing with his telescope. 

"Looks like your choice might be coming up, lad," said the captain. "That's Norrington's flagship over there. Sixty guns." He turned and pointed in the other direction. "And that one's his fastest vessel." Meeting Billy's eyes, he snapped the telescope shut. "Now, I haven't got a particular desire to meet the commodore, today or any day. And I'll happily clap on sail and outrun 'em. The _Pearl_ would be pleased to show them her heels. But only if you want me too." 

"Oh," said Billy. 

"If you speak the word, Turner, I'll run up a flag o' truce and let them come by. Then you can see your ma and pa, and decide which way you want to turn. S'up to you." 

"Can I think about it?" asked Billy. 

"Briefly," Sparrow replied. 

Billy nodded, and went to find a spot where he could sit by himself to think. If he looked up, he could see the towering sails of the flagship; still far away but getting closer by the moment. Suddenly the thought that his parents were on that ship made him very homesick, and making the decision did not take long. 

Sparrow gathered the crew together to tell them, and there was a ripple of muttering among the men. Marty in particular folded his arms and looked somewhat mutinous. 

"Why?" he said. 

"Because they won't give up followin' us," said Sparrow. "Not unless we sail for different waters, and I don't fancy that at the moment. We do this peaceful-like, and you all let me do the talking, and we'll sail away safe and sound in no time." 

"With our cabin boy?" asked Hooper. 

"That's up t' the lad," Sparrow returned. 

Instantly there were forty sets of eyes on Billy, who fidgeted and looked at his boots. 

Sparrow surveyed the men. "There'll be no complaints, savvy?" he said. "Now, let's look lively. I want the ship spick 'n span afore we have any Navy aboard. Let's make her look loved. The less like your usual pirate we seem, the better this'll go. Jump to it!" 

Hooper nodded, and began bellowing orders. 

"You made a good choice, lad," Sparrow said softly to Billy. "Go and scrub the galley." 


	12. Chapter 12

_**Disclaimer:** see chapter 1_

**Chapter 12**

Three hours later, the _Black Pearl_ looked her very best. The brass shone, the sails not currently being used were tidily stowed, ropes were coiled and the deck was drying from being vigorously scrubbed. Even her crew had made an effort, putting on their least stained shirts and breeches. Sparrow was magnificent in a dark green coat and all his jewellery; very much the pirate captain. As the crew came on deck, Billy was amused to notice the general sprucing-up had even affected Piper, who seemed to have brushed his coat down and had tied his hair back with a new ribbon. From the stern the Jolly Roger streamed, but below the flag flew a white banner.

Some of the crew lined the rails, ready to haul or let go on a line. Billy waited by Sparrow's side on the poop deck and watched as the great Navy ship drew close. On the other vessel's poop deck he could see the upright figure of Commodore Norrington, and by his side two other figures with their arms around each other. 

Nobody said very much as the ships hove to close by each other, save for the orders relayed from stern to bow on each vessel. Aboard the Navy ship, men busied themselves lowering down a longboat, and Billy watched as Norrington, his two companions, and several Marines climbed into it.

The pirates were all on deck now, waiting for the visitors. Billy shifted his weight from foot to foot, nervous with excitement and anticipation; and, if he admitted it, a small amount of fear.

The boat came alongside. Hooper threw down a ladder, and shortly the Marines came clambering up it, clumsy with their weapons. Commodore Norrington followed more easily, and stood on deck looking about him with a thin-lipped expression. 

Sparrow said nothing.

The commodore was followed onto deck by first Elizabeth and then Will Turner. Billy hung back, a little afraid of the look on his father's face as he took in the ship, her crew and her captain.

"Billy?" Elizabeth took a step forwards. "Oh, Billy!"

"Go on, lad," said Sparrow, softly, giving him a push.

He took a step forward, and then, seeing his mother hold her arms out, ran to her. She enfolded him in a warm, soft hug that smelt of lavender and salt air, and he hugged back.

"I missed you," she said. "I missed you so much!" She held him away from her. "Have you grown? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," Billy reassured her. "Honestly."

"You look all right," Elizabeth said, doubtfully. "Well. Let's go, shall we, now?"

Billy took a step back. "I'm not sure I want to," he said, carefully.

"Don't be silly, now," Will Turner broke in. "I'm sure this whole experience has been awful, Billy, and it's time to go."

"I was kidnapped by pirates too, once," Elizabeth added.

Biting his lip, Billy looked from one to the other. His mother held out her hand invitingly.

"Come on."

"I don't want to go," Billy repeated.

There was a pause. The Turners exchanged glances.

"Well, there we are," said Sparrow, breaking the silence. "You've seen him, he's all all right, he don't want to leave the _Pearl_ - and who would? - so now you can leave and we can all go about our business." 

"Jack!" said Elizabeth.

"What, Mrs Turner?" Sparrow turned enquiring eyebrows on her. "I will endeavour to answer any questions you might have."

"Why?" 

Sparrow shrugged. "Needed a cabin boy. Still will, if you take the one I've got."

Commodore Norrington coughed, and everyone looked towards him. He frowned at the assembled pirates and Turners. "Captain Sparrow, may I remind you that although you may be under a flag of truce at this present moment, you are still a wanted fugitive. You have already complicated your position by absconding with the grandson of the Governor of Jamaica. Pray do not make things more difficult."

"But he didn't kidnap me!" Billy broke in.

From beside him came a deep sigh. "Like father, like bloody son," said Sparrow. 

"I beg your pardon, Master Turner?"

"What do you mean?" asked Elizabeth. "There was a note! And the window was open!"

Billy sneaked a sidelong glance at Sparrow, who was standing with his arms folded and a pitying look on his face.

"This is the same Miss Elizabeth Swann who escaped from a ship o' the line by tying sheets together and climbin' out of the Great Cabin, is it?" the pirate said.

Elizabeth Turner glared back at him. "No, it's not. It's Mrs Turner now, as you know very well, _Captain_ Sparrow. Were we to think that Billy faked his own kidnapping?"

"I believe we are," Will broke in. "Right, Billy?"

"Yes, sir." Billy met his father's gaze. "Captain Sparrow asked me if I would join him, and I thought about it, and I decided I wanted to."

"You're bound to be a blacksmith, son," said Will.

"Not yet," Sparrow said. "He's not indentured to you, not yet - you told me that yourself, Will. The boy's got talent for this. He's a natural. Lad was born to be at sea, savvy?"

Norrington took a step forward. "Mrs Turner. Gentlemen. Let us resolve this without resorting to violence."

"Who said anything about violence?" Sparrow said. "I never said anything about violence." He looked round at the crew, who were all watching with intense interest. "Let's go and settle this over a cup o' something, eh? Commodore? Mrs Turner?"

Glances were exchanged, and soon they were installed around Sparrow's table in his cabin. Billy found himself seated between his father and his captain, perched on the edge of a chair and feeling a little awkward.

Sparrow produced a dusty bottle of wine from somewhere and poured four generous measures into silver goblets.

"Bought, not stole," he said in answer to the commodore's enquiring look. "A while back. It's good." He drank deeply, leaned back and looked around at the group. "Now. We have a conundrum, do we not? You want your lad back, I want to hang on to him. He's one o' the best cabin boys this ship's seen since I came aboard."

Billy blushed, and examined his dirty fingernails intently.

"'Sides," Sparrow continued, "like as not he'll only run back aboard if you take him away."

Commodore Norrington leaned over, pushing his glass away.

"Master Turner - Billy - what do you want to do?"

"I'm not sure, sir," Billy said. "I like it here. I like the _Pearl_ and being at sea." He looked over at Sparrow. "Captain Sparrow's looked after me … and, and I _like_ it."

"Do you want to stay?" asked the commodore.

Billy said nothing, and thought about the question.

"If I say yes, will I be allowed to stay?" he asked, after a moment's thought. Sparrow grinned, but remained silent.

"That is not for me to decide, Billy," Norrington said gently. "I am but a mediator, between your parents and Captain Sparrow, and am in some sense a representative of your grandfather, whose role must not be forgotten."

"Yes," said Billy. "I do, sir."

"Thank you," said Norrington. "Now, kindly go up on deck while we discuss what will happen."

"Go on, lad," Sparrow put in.

Will nodded at him. Getting up, Billy left the cabin and went up on deck where the pirates and the marines appeared to have forged an uneasy truce and were playing cards.

Billy sat down on the steps to the poop deck, where Piper came to join him.

"Has your fate been decided?" the doctor questioned.

"I think they're deciding it now," Billy said, leaning his elbows on his knees. "I told them I wanted to stay." Thinking about the decision made him feel a little sick, and he swallowed.

"Brave boy," said Piper. "What did the captain say to that?" 

"Nothing," Billy replied. "Not a word." 

"Hmmm." Piper frowned to himself. "Hmmm. Do you want to stay?"

Nodding, Billy said, "Yes, I do." He was sure now that he did want to stay on board the _Pearl_, and stay at sea.

The doctor stood up, brushed his coat-front and shoulders down, patted at his hair, and was gone with a whisk of coat-tails towards the Great Cabin.

Billy was never quite sure how the agreement was reached, but half an hour later his parents, Commodore Norrington, Piper and a beaming Sparrow emerged from the cabin with the air of having settled the matter. Getting to his feet, Billy crossed over to them and stood waiting until they noticed him.

"I trust you'll hold to your word, Captain Sparrow?" Norrington was saying.

"Honest pirate," grinned Sparrow, and lost the grin as he saw the commodore's face. "Aye, I'll keep to it. For Bootstrap's memory, if naught else. You'll make sure your bunch hold to your word?" 

"On my oath as a member of His Majesty's Navy," the commodore said.

They shook hands, and turned to Billy. 

"Well, lad," said Sparrow, "it's good news for you and I. You're to stay."

Billy could not stop his jaw from dropping. He had fully expected to hear quite the opposite. "Really?"

"Absolutely," put in Piper. "But there are conditions, Master Turner."

"We'll let you stay," Will Turner said, "but you will be taking lessons in reading, writing, mathematics and so on from Mr Piper. He will be your tutor, Billy, and you must obey him as you must obey Ja - Captain Sparrow. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father," Billy said.

Sparrow folded his arms. "In return, we're to put into Port Royal at least once every year, so as you can see your ma and pa. But the commodore's also promised not to shoot at us when we do."

"And you must write to us," added Elizabeth, laying her hands on Billy's shoulders. "Write often, and tell us how you are."

"But you're not to go running to the commodore here with them letters so he can chase after us," Sparrow said, a finger raised in admonition. "All right?"

"If you come to realise that you don't want to be a sailor …" said Will. 

"Pirate," Sparrow threw in.

"Sailor," Will repeated, firmly. "If you don't want to be at sea, you can come home at any time, Billy."

"Thank you, Papa," Billy said. "You're not angry?"

Elizabeth smiled, a little sadly. "We're furious, Billy; but not at you. Mainly we don't want you hurt."

"I believe," said Norrington, "that insofar as running away to be a pirate is ever a good thing, Billy has chosen a good ship to be on. She is a beauty, Captain Sparrow."

Beaming, Sparrow bowed his little bow of thanks in the commodore's direction. "Good of you to say so, commodore."

Elizabeth gathered Billy into a tight hug, resting her chin on his head; Will joined them and for a moment nobody said anything. They broke apart. Elizabeth's eyes were damp, and she turned aside to dab at them with a handkerchief. While she was doing so, Will unbuckled a short dagger from his side and handed it to Billy.

"Take this," he said.

Billy took the knife and half-drew it from its leather sheath. "Papa!" he exclaimed.

"You need to be protected," his father returned. "That'll help."

"Thank you," Billy said, fastening the belt around his own waist.

Will turned to Piper, holding out his hand. The blacksmith and the doctor shook, without saying anything. By the rail Sparrow and Norrington were involved in an inspection of the sails, and seemed to have come to a cautious agreement about the future.

As Norrington beckoned the marines from their card game, Billy and his parents said a final farewell. The Turners paused next to Sparrow; Will and the captain shook hands, and Sparrow kissed Elizabeth's hand with a courtly flourish. Then the party from the Navy ship climbed down the ladder, into their longboat, and were pulling away from the _Black Pearl_.

Sparrow, looking rather pleased with himself, favoured the crew with one of his glittering smiles. "We make for Barbados," he said. "Mr Hooper?"

Stepping up to the helm, Hooper loosened his neck-tie and began bellowing orders. As the great ship swung into motion once more, Billy stood by the rail and watched his parents boarding their own vessel. The flagship's sails billowed, and she slowly began the complicated manoeuvres that would swing her round to head back towards Port Royal.

"Turner!" came a cry from Hooper. "What are you doing just standing there? There's work to do, lad." 

Billy turned from the rail, and went off to do whatever there was to be done.

**The End**


End file.
